Strip Target Practice
by SaidWhatIMeant
Summary: One-shot: Taylor and Daryl are having a slightly drunken night of celebration when Taylor has an interesting idea... Now expanded. Rated M for smutty goodness and language. Daryl/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, guys, this one's a doozy. What can I say? Naked Daryl requires a lot of attention. **

**A whole lot of attention. *****cough, cough***

** I could have split it up into two chapters, but it would break the flow of the thing.**

** But by all means, don't let me distract you. Let the drunken games begin ;)**

I was getting real sick of walkers.

Daryl and I just couldn't catch a fucking break. We were just going to loot the neighborhood houses, and it was supposed to be quick and easy. The first house had been simple, only holding two walkers that we took down with no problems. I had found a few cans of food in the back of the kitchen cabinet, as well as a little surprise for later, but now, looking at the small herd of walkers that had amassed in the yard of the house next door, right in front of where we had parked the truck, I wasn't sure we were going to have a "later." There was no way for us to even make it to the truck without catching their attention, let alone getting in and driving away.

I cursed under my breath, steeling myself. Panicking was not an option. That was when the deadly mistakes were made. I took a deep breath through my mouth, wanting to hold off the overwhelming stench of rotting flesh that was permeating the air, and took a quick peek around the corner of the small shed we were crouched behind.

"Shit," I whispered, putting a sweaty hand instinctively on the hilt of my knife. I had only brought two with me today. The neighborhood we had been exploring was relatively clear, and I hadn't seen a need to take my whole set. It was easier to travel that way, and we needed as much room for supplies in the backpacks as possible. I leaned my head back against the shed wall, the rough wood threatening to pierce splinters in my back.

"Taylor."

I turned quickly at the soft hiss of my name, refocusing on Daryl crouched a couple feet away from me at the opposite shed corner, his crossbow out in front of him with a homemade bolt pulled ready. He took a few silent steps until he was next to me. I tried and failed to hold in a sigh of relief at his tense and ready presence, nodding once at him as the panic I was feeling at our situation subsided slightly. Daryl and I worked well together, and if I had to get through this shit with anyone, I was glad it was him.

His gravelly whisper helped to calm me even more. "How many ya got?"

"About a dozen, on my count. You?" I answered in my own soft whisper.

"Fourteen." He took another look around the corner before turning back to face me.

I swore, taking mental stock of our options. Besides my knives I only had a handgun, useless here when we didn't want to draw attention.

Daryl eyed me. "Ya ready?"

I looked at him, open mouthed. "Ready for what?"

"Don't know 'bout you, girl, but I ain't waitin' for them to find us."

I glared at him, annoyed. Taking on a herd, however small, with just two people was a death wish. "Well, I don't know about you, Dixon, but I wasn't planning on dying today, either."

He shot me a warning look at the volume of my voice. "Come on. Dumb to even try and take on all these sons o'bitches. I only got so much ammo. So we make a run for it. Get out to the truck and be on our merry fuckin' way." He glanced at me. "Or you can wait."

"That's the plan? Make a run for it?"

"Best run fast," he deadpanned.

I peaked around the corner as Daryl slung his bow over his back, replacing it in his hands with his hunting knife. I could see the truck where we had left it parked on the street, only about twenty feet from here, but those twenty feet were a minefield of walkers.

But what choice did we have?

"Ready now?" he asked, and even his whisper was gruff.

I shrugged, smiling at him even as my heart pounded a mile a minute. "Good a time as any, right?"

He gave me a nod, flexing his fingers over his knife, before tilting his head forward in a silent signal.

And then we were running.

I had only made it about five feet before I felt a moist, decaying hand of a walker grasping at my forearm, it's slick fingers trying to find purchase on my skin. I didn't stop, yanking my arm away forcefully. I could hear the heightened noise of the dead all around us, the telltale sign that they were eagerly anticipating a nearby meal. Daryl was still ahead of me, cutting away a walker that got too close before looking back to make sure I was still behind him as he ran around the truck to the driver's seat.

I fumbled clumsily with the passenger door handle, trying unsuccessfully twice more before I could get it open. I slid hastily into the seat at the same time Daryl put the key into the ignition.

Two walkers slammed into the car window, their fingers clawing desperately, their teeth clinking forcefully against the glass as they tried to reach their food, gray tongues leaving slimy trails.

I scrambled away from the window, my heavy bag forcing me to awkwardly fall against Daryl's shoulder. "GO!" I screamed just as the engine roared to life, the truck jerking forward as Daryl slammed on the gas pedal. I turned around, getting on my knees so I could look out the dirty back window. A few walkers were still stumbling toward our car, but most of the others in the yard appeared to only just be catching on that something had happened.

"Are ya bit? Scratched? Anythin'?"

I turned around as I shook my head. "No. I'm fine. You?"

I watched him shake his head that he was fine, sinking low in my seat in relief. I laughed, just a giggle at first, but I was quickly reduced to hysterics, the hype of our survival hitting me. Daryl, ever stoic, didn't join me, but I could see the smile lifting his cheeks.

"Know what the best part is?" I asked him, bringing my bag around to rest at my feet along with his crossbow. I shuffled through it, searching for what I had found in the house. My fingers grasped the smooth metal, and I pulled out the flask that I had been saving for just this moment.

I shook it in front of his face, and he looked at me for a second, his mouth crooked up in a disbelieving smile.

"And it's full," I laughed, shaking the bottle again.

Daryl hollered in a rare celebration, and my smile grew at the freedom and happiness I was feeling at leaving the danger, at least for now, behind us.

Tonight would be a good night.

* * *

We rode in a comfortable silence on the gravel trail that led to the cabin, occasionally asking a question about the supplies we had gathered and what our plans were.

The cabin had been a good find. It was good middle ground between the farm and hunting territory. Daryl had spotted it when he was out looking for Sophia, marking it out as a possibility for where she might be but making a note of it on the map. When Daryl and I had first gone hunting here together, days after the barn debacle, we had staked the place out for two days, waiting for someone to show, but no one ever had. There was no one on the inside, either, dead or alive, and judging from the thick layer of dust and the rotting firewood, it had been that way for quite some time. It was small, with only one bedroom, but as one of us was always keeping watch from the small front porch, it wasn't a problem. It was dated, smelled of mildew and nature, but it was good enough for us.

We didn't finish unpacking and counting up our loot until the sun came down. It wasn't until we were both on the porch, him sitting at one of the couple of stools set up on the table, me lounging on the floor with my back against the porch post, that I broke out the flask.

I unscrewed the cap, stretching my legs out in front of me before crossing them at the ankles. I took a whiff of the contents, cringing at the strong smell of whiskey. "Yeah, that'll definitely do it," I said as I took first a sip, then a gulp, coughing a little as it burned down my throat. I sighed in satisfaction. I had definitely missed that feeling.

He held out his hand impatiently, and I passed the flask over to him.

"We should do something fun," I said, watching as he took a swallow.

The corner of his his mouth went up in an appreciative smile at the flask before passing it back to me. "What ya got in mind?"

I paused while I thought, taking another sip of the whiskey. Shit was strong, and I could already feel the soothing and freeing effect it had running through my veins. I laughed at myself. I really needed to get that tolerance back up. Shouldn't be feeling a buzz, not yet. Before people had up and started eating each other, I had been a champ at drinking games, one of the last to be able to stand straight.

An idea came to me at the thought of drinking games. I looked at him, excited, standing up. "What about target practice? You against me."

He shook his head. "Drunk already, lil' girl?"

I hid my annoyance at his comment, resisting the childish urge to stick my tongue out at him. "Come on, Dixon," I crooned, smiling with false sugar sweetness at him. "Afraid of losing to just a 'lil girl'?"

"Ain't losin'." He growled. He was glaring at me from under his brow, but I thought I could sense a smirk just under the surface.

I took another swig of the stolen flask, savoring the tingling burning, then set it clumsily on the crooked table with a clatter. I would need the rest of my scattered wits about me if I wanted to win.

And I sure as hell wanted to win.

"Sounds like a challenge," I said, cocking my head. The beginnings of an idea were starting to form in my mind, brought on by the alcohol and the adrenaline rush from our narrow escape that day. "Here, I'll even make it interesting."

He leaned forward on the stool, supporting his weight with his elbows on his knees. He looked at me expectantly, his eyes watching me as I rested my head against the porch railing. "I'm listenin'."

"Strip target practice."

He forced a loud laugh, reaching for the flask. He raised it to his lips and chuckled again, giving me a sidelong glance as he took a gulp. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Ain't no way."

"Oh, come on," I whined, crossing my arms. I took a step forward so that I was standing in front of his seated figure. "We got enough game for the camp. Our asses are still bite free, against all odds. And," I added, quickly swooping down to snatch the flask from his hand before he could stop me, "we got happiness in a bottle right here." I swished the half empty bottle in front of him, smiling. "Things don't get much better."

He stood up suddenly, moving alarmingly close to me. My alcohol dulled senses had my reactions slowed, making me feel almost stuck. As I tried to stand straight with some semblance of grace, I couldn't stop the meandering path my eyes took down the open V of his unbuttoned shirt. My breath caught a little in my chest as I fought a sudden and unfamiliar urge to touch him, the flask shaking slightly in my unsteady fingers.

But then he had taken the flask back from my outstretched hand, breaking my trance. I took a stumbling step back, turning so I wasn't facing him, shaking my head hard. What the hell was that about? I turned around, plastering a smile on my face, hoping to erase the jitters that had formed low in my stomach.

I had always been attracted to Daryl, sure. Something about our natural chemistry had drawn me to him from the beginning. But I had shoved it to the back of my mind, never giving it much thought. There were far more important things, and I wouldn't risk screwing things up between us. I most certainly had never entertained the thought of acting on it.

But even so, there was still a nagging thought, a persistent feeling about tonight. Maybe tonight... maybe tonight, with the relief and the celebration and the whiskey, I wouldn't stop myself from letting things get interesting.

Or maybe I was crazy.

I shook my head again. It had been way too fucking long since my last drink, I reasoned. Body didn't even know how to handle the alcohol anymore.

I watched him as he took a couple lengthy steps, walking past me to the far side of the porch. He lifted himself onto the railing so he was sitting, facing me. He took another drink, the moonlight glinting off the metal of the flask. I took a deep breath, then went over to sit next to him, a healthy couple inches away. I let my legs swing, trying for the comfortable ease between us that had nearly always come so naturally.

He broke the silence. "Fer one, I don't need practice."

I laughed, open and easy. "What, and I do?"

"More than me."

"Well," I said as I hopped off the railing, walking backwards and trying through the alcohol haze to look sly, "if you're so damn sure, I'll make it even more interesting." I stopped at the stairs, raising a hand to crook a finger at him, trying to draw him outside. At some point, the suggestion had become more than a joke. I wanted this to happen, and I was almost certain that the threat of losing would get him to play along.

He scoffed at me, but dropped off the rail anyway. "You're drunk."

"So are you. Feels good though, doesn't it?" I stepped lazily down the stairs. "Haven't been this way since the CDC."

He followed me down, watching me carefully. "Yeah, I guess," he agreed before he stopped at the bottom of the steps. "I ain't fuckin' playin'."

"So, you're scared?"

He gave me a look that could kill. "Ain't what I said."

"Well, that's all I'm hearing. Fine. For the sake of your insecurity, I'll start at a clear disadvantage." I took a deep breath, bringing my hands to the bottom of my t-shirt. The buzz of alcohol had my confidence high, but while things were still slightly fuzzy, my head was mostly clear. This decision was mine, and before I could rethink it, I pulled the shirt up and over my head, dropping it on the dirt at my feet.

I looked up to where Daryl was standing, ready for some kind of reaction, but he had turned around so his back was to me.

"Daryl," I said, my voice filled with disapproval. "Are you fucking serious?"

"Are you?" He turned his head, looking at me over his shoulder, and then quickly faced forward. Not quickly enough, though. I could see the vivid red on his cheeks from his blush. "Put your goddamn shirt on."

"I don't really think you get the point of the strip in strip target practice, Daryl. Clothes go off, not on," I said, sarcasm positively overflowing, but I was worried. I didn't know exactly what reaction I had been searching for, but it wasn't this. He wasn't supposed to be fucking embarrassed.

"Ya don't start with your shirt, neither."

I looked around, my eyes falling on the side of the shed near the line of the woods. Someone, before the end of the world, had spray painted on the back of it: "KEEP OUT."

I walked over to him, gripping his shoulders and turning him towards the shed. "How gentlemanly of you. Look. Pick up your bow. Stand right there. And see if you can shoot inside the O."

He looked at me in disbelief, raising his arm to point at it. "Inside the O? Best ya got, girl?"

I crossed my arms, distinctly aware that this was possibly the worst bra I could be wearing. It was comfortable, practical, keeping me in place without strapping me down, but I had worn it so often and through so much that the fabric had been worn very thin. "Just fucking shoot it, Dixon."

Finally, I had pushed all the right buttons. He swung up his crossbow, holding it steady in front of him. He took another glance at me before aiming and pulling the trigger. Not to my surprise, the bolt hit dead center of the circle.

I clapped my hands, applauding him sarcastically. "Good job. My turn."

He held his arm out to his side in a be my guest gesture, walking a few steps away and putting the tip of his crossbow to the ground. I came beside him, bringing my knife out of its hilt. I debated whether or not I should show off, twirl it through my fingers, but I was afraid of what the alcohol had done to my finer tuned coordination. I settled for just throwing it, bringing up an arm, looking at my target.

Just as I was about to throw, I let my gaze go to Daryl. He wasn't doing anything, just standing, but just like before, I was overwhelmed by the sensation that I was stuck in his presence. I was struck by the desire to touch him, and not just fucking clasp his shoulder, either. I wanted to feel the lines of the muscles on his arms, really have a chance to run my hands over him.

I turned back to the shed, flustered, hoping he hadn't noticed anything strange. I threw my knife, but I could already tell it was a bad throw, that it wasn't going anywhere near the target. I cringed as the blade dug only an inch into the wood, about a foot away from the letter I had been aiming for, wavering for a second before dropping pathetically to the ground.

I hung my head in shame while Daryl nodded his head, looking at me smugly. "The hell kind of throw was that?"

"I got distracted," I moaned, running my hands over my face. This was not fucking happening. I was not suddenly rendered incapable just because he looked good.

"Come on, then," he said, pointing at me. I could tell he wanted to laugh.

"Fuck," I grumbled, leaning down to untie the laces of my shoes, slipping them and my socks off. I stood up straight. "I think you might have cheated," I complained, hugging myself as I frowned at him. "You still have all your fucking clothes on and I'm down to shorts and a bra." Without a shirt and shoes, it was feeling a lot chillier than it had at the start.

"Even drunk, I'm a better shot." He smirked at my shivering. "Ya got three turns left."

At his smirk, I raised an eyebrow, quickly planning a retaliation. I wanted to make him feel what I had felt. "Two turns," I corrected, holding up two fingers.

He looked at me with his brow furrowed, confused. His eyes moved down my body quickly, assessing the clothes that were left. His gaze shot back up to my face as I took a few steps over to him, stopping when I was only a couple centimeters away, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. He stayed completely still as I leaned in closer to him so my mouth was by his ear, making sure to keep our bodies from touching. My heart and mind racing with a little thrill, I whispered, "Who said I'm wearing underwear?"

I skipped a few steps back, laughing. Even if it was a lie, the look on his face and the slow blush creeping up his neck was worth it. His gaze seemed frozen at some spot on the ground.

But then he looked up, his eyes meeting mine, and my laughter immediately died off. There was something in his gaze I had never seen before, a hunger, a desire that brought back the jitters I had felt earlier in full force. I was stuck once again under his stare, and I couldn't stop my eyes from flicking back down to his lips again and again, the line of his strong jaw, the trail of his stubble.

I blinked hard and cleared my throat, loud and awkward. He quickly looked away, the red at his neck more pronounced as his jaw clenched. My breathing was coming fast and shallow, and I searched on the ground for something, anything to do with my hands. I spotted my knife, and I walked quickly over to it, picking it up off the ground.

"Okay," I said, my voice coming out higher pitched than usual. I cleared my throat again. "Let's try again. Further back this time. And you have to hit where the lines cross in the T." I pointed to the spot I meant, then walked back to where we were aiming from.

I tried to ignore the sparks, the urge to touch him, but I couldn't. It was a primal instinct that had me come up beside him as he was aiming and, without even really knowing what I was doing, resting a hand on his flannel clad back, letting my fingers trail over his shoulder until they were resting on his thick bicep. I felt the muscle twinge as he nearly twitched, his bow jerking as he pulled the trigger. The bolt flew, landing above the words.

"Talk about fuckin' cheating, ya threw my aim off!"

"Seriously? I barely even touched you." I shifted my weight onto one leg. "Here. You can put both your hands on me, and I still won't miss."

He stared at me stonily, eyeing my outstretched arm. I held it there for a second longer, but when he didn't take me up on my offer, I focused on the task at hand.

This time I hit the T with pinpoint accuracy. I threw my arms in the air in victory.

"Know what that means?" I smiled, going back to the shed to yank his bolt and my knife from where they were deeply imbedded in the wood. "You've got a choice to make... What's it gonna be? Shirt or pants?" I laughed, a little nervously. I was beginning to see the dangers behind this. Daryl wasn't exactly a man of many words, but I had picked up on enough dropped hints over the months to figure out his home life hadn't been the best. Even on overnight trips like this one, I had never seen him anything less than fully clothed, and I had no idea how this shit was going to go over.

He didn't make any movements, only looked at the ground, and I sighed. "Don't you trust me?"

He kept his gaze down, and I stepped forward again, trying to duck my head down to catch his eye. Something had changed. This didn't feel like a game anymore. My fingers were still tingling with the memory of the feel of his arm, and my synapses were all screaming at me to find a reason to touch him again. The way he had looked at me... I was sure he had felt it, too. And I was equally sure that if I could break through that infamous Dixon defense, I could get him to respond.

He took a step back when I had made it about a foot in front of him, looking at me in near alarm. I stopped in my tracks, holding my hands in front of me in a surrendering gesture. We stood, both still, both waiting for the bluff to be called and the game to be continued. But I was done playing.

When it looked like I wasn't in danger of spooking him further, I spoke, softly, as gently as I could, "I need you to trust me now." I leaned forward and took the crossbow from his hands, setting it gently against the porch stairs. On my way back up, I took his hand.

I looked up at him, holding his hand in both of mine. I could see the debate raging in his eyes as he stared down at our hands, his normally unreadable face giving me barely intelligible signs of emotion: the veins in his neck became more pronounced as he clenched his jaw tight, his lips parted, his breaths deep and ragged, his eyes narrowed not in anger but in questioning confusion, as if he wasn't positive this was really happening.

I guided his hand to my left hip, prying open his fist so his fingers were splayed against my skin. He held me stiffly, awkwardly, unsure, but he didn't let go.

Encouraged by my success, I inched forward, taking small steps until the space between us was minuscule. I brought my hands up to the bottom button of his shirt, slowly pushing the button through the hole. I chanced a glance at his face, but he was still looking at the progress my hands were making as I moved onto the next button. I worked hesitantly, waiting for him to protest, sure that any second he was going to pull away from me, but I couldn't stop. The want I was feeling for Daryl was nearly uncontrollable, some dormant fiery need that I hadn't ever felt to this degree before but was certainly not to be silenced now. I wanted so many things, needed to feel his skin, wanted to experience the texture and taste of him.

When his shirt was undone, I carefully placed my hands on his taut abdomen, lingering on the scar still visible at his side from where his bolt had pierced him through, letting my nails graze against his nipples as I slid my hands up his chest, coming to a stop at his neck. I stroked the line of his jaw with my thumbs, taking my time to look at him, my eyes flitting from his chest to his neck, but always back to his lips. I yearned to kiss him, taste him, put my lips everywhere, but I knew I had to let him adjust.

"Taylor," he said when I finally looked into his eyes, his voice thick.

I touched his lower lip with my thumb, surprised at how soft it was, so different from the pleasant roughness of his scruff. He was watching me carefully, and I let out a breath as I moved my hands so they were around the back of his neck.

"Just...just touch me, Daryl. Don't think," I said in a whispered plea. I rested my ear against his defined chest, listening to his heart beat, steady and dependable, as I waited for him to make his move.

I was rewarded for my patience when he placed his other hand on my hip so that he was holding me, his fingers hesitant as he squeezed me tight, his fingertips digging into my flesh, thumbs grazing the waistband of my shorts. He pressed me forward, gently, as if he wasn't sure if I would follow his lead. I let the line of my body meet his, and even through his all consuming warmth a shiver went down my spine, my nipples hard against the thin fabric of my bra.

He wasn't moving nearly fast enough, though, and finally, I couldn't take it anymore, the tension, the want, and I leaned on the tips of my toes as I brought his head down so I could press my lips to his. This first kiss was sweet and innocent, a question and an answer. I pulled away, keeping my face close to his as I looked into his dazzlingly blue eyes, hoping that it was okay. There was a drastic change there to what I had been seeing all night: there were no reservations, no raging wars or decisions left to be made. I saw the same desire that was coursing through my veins reflected back at me. I took a shaky breath that was interrupted when he dipped his head back down, reuniting our lips for a kiss that went much deeper. I opened my mouth, encouraging more as I ran my tongue over his bottom lip. I only had to wait a second before I felt his tongue gliding against my own, and I eagerly let him take control. His hands traveled down from my hips to my ass, pausing only slightly before letting his fingers slide into the back pockets to press me harder against him. I dropped my hands from his neck to his shoulders, trailing down his chest to his sides so I could pull myself even closer to him.

I was thrilled that we were here, that he was holding me like this, that he had caught on so quickly to what my body had been near screaming for all night. Kissing Daryl felt so good, so very right, that I couldn't help the involuntary smile that formed against his mouth, enjoying the feel of his lips moving with mine. He took the opportunity to let his kisses trail away from my mouth, leaning down so that he could nuzzle against my cheek, his goatee tickling against me, until his lips were at my ear.

"Get up here," he grunted.

I leaned away, confused by the demand. Before I had time to even ask a question, he had brought his hands out of my pockets, caressing me as he moved his hands down so that he had a grip on the backs of my thighs. I squealed as he suddenly picked me up, hitching my legs around his waist. I was taller than him now, my chest level with his head. He kept his arms firmly around me as he looked up at me.

I was breathless as I stared back down at him, tangling my fingers in his hair and massaging gently. I hadn't expected this of Daryl, this take charge version of him that I had come to respect and trust in the time that I'd known him.

But as he gripped me tighter still, keeping his eyes on me as he lowered his lips to the space between my breasts, his lips tasting the small beads of sweat that had gathered there in the feverish heat he was forcing, I wasn't about to argue. I did trust him, every facet of him, had learned to lay everything on the line with him again and again and believe that we could make it out. Even now, being with him like this, I was fully ready to place myself in his capable hands, and judging from the way the swell of need building low in my stomach, my body was in complete and enthusiastic agreement.

I was caught off guard again by the sudden feel of his tongue taking a slow, burning lick around the edge of the cup of my bra. I threw my head back at the sensation, my fingers yanking onto his hair for leverage and support as he followed the lick through, leaving broad, slick strokes right over my still hardened nipple that I could easily feel through the barely there material of my bra. I was thankful for the thin coverage the bra provided, glad I had some kind of defense against my constant inner mantra of faster, faster, more and more, the pleasedon'tstops as he switched to my other breast. I groaned, my stomach clenching as I brought my head forward to watch him, surprised to find that he was already intently watching me.

He smiled slightly, the side of his mouth quirking up as he took in the helpless expression on my face. "Ya want more?"

I felt the heat of a blush rise from my chest to my face. Apparently, my mantra had been less in my head than I thought. But, I couldn't bring myself to be embarrassed. Instead I leaned down, pressing my forehead against his.

"I want everything," I said, my voice coming out throaty and needful.

His demeanor changed at this, and I could tell my words had unlocked something in him. The look in his eyes was a pure and delicious cocktail of sex and desire, a promise that had me entirely on edge. He didn't break his gaze as he moved his head back to my breast, my attention completely rapt as he ever so gently clamped down on where my nipple was obviously pressing against my bra with his teeth, tugging slightly before the fabric loosened free from his grip. My mouth opened in a gasp that came out as a high pitched whimper.

As soon as he released me I leaned back down, resting my cheek against his temple as I tried to regain my senses and my breath. Everything I had been feeling, every want and desire and need, was now absolutely pulsing through me, consuming me, coming to an electrifying end between my legs with every heartbeat that shook me to my very core. I felt him take one step back, then another, until he was leaning against the porch, his arms going slightly slack as he propped himself against the wall.

I fucking needed more. I was about to start dry humping this man, I was so desperate for some kind of satisfaction. I let myself slide from his grip, bringing my legs from around his waist so that I could drop to the ground onto my unsteady legs. He was letting his head drop back against the rail, his eyes closed as his chest heaved, bringing my attention to the very obvious bulge he was now sporting.

I hooked my fingers into his belt loops and yanked him forward at the same time I leaned against him, letting our hips come together so that I could feel his hardness more solidly against me. His eyes immediately shot open, and he looked down at me. I took a second to stare back, trying to convey how much I wanted and needed this to continue, before releasing his pants so that I could push his shirt down his shoulders.

Before I let it drop all the way off, I pulled it tight, trapping his arms. I took a step back, pulling him with me.

He eyed me hungrily, and I could tell he was debating whether or not he would let me take control, but he didn't protest as I led him up the porch stairs. Ever pragmatic, he grabbed his crossbow on the way, not putting it down until we were inside the house.

I dropped his shirt, pulling his hand and tugging him towards the bedroom. He grabbed onto my waist, pulling me to him and bending down so he could catch me in a kiss. We stumbled drunkenly backwards, our mouths clashing repeatedly as I grabbed at his belt buckle, my nails leaving scratches in my haste.

We were nearly to the bedroom before he pushed me back, hard enough so that I was forced against the wall right next to the door. He immediately followed through, placing himself extremely close to me, putting his hands on the wall on either side of my head, effectively trapping me. I looked up at him, biting my lip as I dragged my hands up and down his chest, loving the way he was looking at me as the sparks flew between us.

He leaned down, kissing me almost bruisingly hard, his tongue demanding entrance to my mouth. I let him, allowed his dominance as he teased his tongue into my mouth again, his hips grinding sensuously against me in time with his tongue. I moaned into his mouth, dropping my hands to his firm ass to keep him against me. I nipped at his bottom lip gently, pulling it between my teeth, and he growled at me as he took hold of my waist and guided me over and back into the bedroom, never breaking his mouth from mine.

We were angling towards the bed, but I had other ideas. I didn't know if it was the alcohol still helping me not falter, or if it was just the way he was looking at me, but I wanted to escalate this.

I broke away from him, taking a few steps until my back was against the cluttered, dusty desk that we had never bothered messing with. I sat up on it, crossing my legs delicately in front of me as he looked at me blankly. I gestured with my head for him to come forward, and he immediately obeyed, putting his hands on my thighs and running his fingertips under my shorts. I reached up, putting my hands on either side of his head, and brought him even closer, licking the line of his jaw as his fingers came ever higher under the jean fabric.

"You look sexy," I said, kissing him again by his ear, "and I want to watch."

I kept my hands on his head, turning him so that he could see the dresser mirror across the small bedroom. We were very clearly reflected on the mirror's surface, every inch of both us and the desk I was sitting on. My face was flushed, my long brown hair tangled and crazy, but Daryl was all I could look at. I watched his face change as he took in our image, watching my shorts ride up as he flexed his fingers, pressing forward so that his chest was against mine. As his eyes met mine in the reflection, I could tell that we were both on the same level, more than just turned on. We needed this, together, needed to sate our equally desperate thirsts.

Suddenly, his hands were gone from my legs as he reached around me so that I was caged between his arms. I watched the muscles there tense as he roughly cleared the desk, the lamp and books falling with a loud crash that I couldn't quite seem to hear from within the protection of his arms. As soon as the desk was emptied, his hands went to my back, trailing up until his fingers found my bra. I wrapped my arms around him, my nails digging into the back of his shoulder and eliciting a groan that I felt rumble in his chest. I cut him off, pressing my lips to his eagerly, inviting his tongue, loving the heavenly sensation of it running against my teeth.

I uncrossed my legs, opening them so that he could stand between them, and he grinded against me, making me moan against his mouth. After a few seconds of fumbling, I felt the clasp of the bra open, and I carelessly shrugged it off and threw it away, not breaking our kiss.

I pulled him with me as I slowly inched backwards, more and more of my back making contact with the cooled wood of the desk. He put a hand behind my head just before I had laid down completely, giving me a soft landing, his hands trapped underneath me. He kissed me once more before breaking away, keeping his face close to mine, our heavy breaths intermingling, the warm skin of his chest making contact again and again with my breasts, keeping me on edge. He straightened slightly as he gently let my head fall to the table, his fingers threading and brushing down through my hair until he reached my shoulder. I was frozen in anticipation, watching his face as his fingers trailed over my shoulder, tracing over my collarbone, touching every dip and curve, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

He brought his hand from around my back, sliding it to my waist, while the other hand left my collarbone to do the same. His hands moved up my body in tandem, not stopping until he had reached my breasts, his thumbs making wide circles around the underside, bringing small shivers and goosebumps over my body as he came ever closer to my nipples. Each circuit he completed had me needing more, and my hips started to thrust slightly in time with his thumbs' circular movements, my hips threatening to leave the table the table. He was watching my body, watching the way I was reacting to him, his eyes traveling to my hips, down my shaking arms to where my hands were gripping the edges of the table, needing something to release the tension that he was causing.

I moaned as he suddenly took each of my nipples between his thumb and finger and pinched, hard, their sensitivity forcing the pain and pleasure higher, sending an electrifying jolt that went straight between my legs.

My moans didn't stop as he immediately replaced one of his hands with his mouth, his tongue soothing as he took a nipple between his lips. His other hand held my breast in its entirety, his palm warm against me as he cupped me. I released the table, grabbing instead onto his hair, pulling it hard between my fingers, holding him against me. I brought my feet up so that they were against the edge of the table, allowing me to use the leverage to thrust harder against him, feeling his hardness come against me, making me nearly scream with how badly I wanted him inside me. He responded with a guttural groan of his own, his movements halting for a moment before he bit down on the side my breast, hard enough to leave a bright red crescent shaped mark.

My back arched at the pleasant agony, my whole body clenching as my shoulders came off the table, my legs wrapping around him. He didn't give me a break, keeping his mouth on me, his tongue running over the already fading mark before covering me with kisses, working in the general direction of my neck.

His hands left my chest, following the curves of my body until he reached my shorts. He clawed at them, slipping his fingers under the waistband and tugging hard. I fell back down eagerly and lifted my hips, helping him to pull both the shorts and underwear down my thighs, letting them drop to the floor as he placed his hands on my bare hips, gripping me tight. I gasped at the rush of air against me, but he cut me off as he kissed me, hard, passionately. I brought my feet up to his hips, trying anything in my desperation tug his pants down.

He broke away from me, standing up straight, ignoring my cry of protest. He slid his hands down from around my hips, squeezing my ass before letting his hands travel slowly down my thighs, running under my knees. He stopped there, cupping my calves as he pushed my legs up. I caught on, letting him position me, resting my feet on his chest, sighing at the feel of his rough jeans against my slit. I was so tender, so sensitive, that his touches felt so good they hurt.

He brought his hands to his pants, making quick work of the buckle, pushing both them and his boxers down. My mouth practically watered at the sight of his hard, thick, long cock. I wanted him, wanted him inside me, slamming against me, but he wasn't moving.

"Daryl," I pleaded, not caring how pathetic I sounded.

He leaned back forward at my voice, his cock sliding against my slit, making me squirm as he reached his hand toward my face. He gingerly took hold of my jaw, turning my face so that I was looking at the mirror.

"Watch," he commanded, no room for question in his voice. At the tone of his voice, I whimpered again, moving my hips so that he slid against me again, his head coming into my folds against my clit, making my body clench again.

I loved the reflection staring back at me in the mirror, loved seeing his muscles ripple, nearly came undone at the sight of him grabbing onto his dick and rubbing it against me. Experiencing it was one thing, but watching the involuntary reactions of my body, the way my back came off the table, the way he roughly grabbed onto my thigh to keep us both steady, was entirely another. His eyes locked onto mine, and we both watched as he slid easily and completely inside of me.

He bowed his head forward once he was all the way inside of me, the angle allowing him to thrust deep, his eyes closed, both of us breathing hard as we adjusted, a moan at the edge of my every breath. I watched our reflection as he slowly pulled out of me, my eyes on his outline as he thrust back into me, harder. There was no hesitation now, no time to let my breathing go steady as he pulled out and pushed back into me, both his hands on thighs, entering me again and again and again.

"Oh, GOD," I cried as he slammed particularly hard into me, reaching my hands over my head so I could grab onto the edge of the table, trying to disperse some of the overwhelming pleasure I was feeling. I turned to the mirror, hoping for some kind of distraction so I could hold off my already impending orgasm until I was sure he was ready. My breasts were moving in time with his thrusts, the table absolutely shaking under our combined efforts, the legs occasionally squeaking when a hard thrust would force it to move against the hardwood floor. Both our bodies were slick with sweat in the thick, still air, the heat only adding to the intensity. I could feel myself getting close, every thrust causing a sporadic clench around him.

I looked up at him, but his expression wasn't helping me hold on, either. He was watching himself go inside of me, the look on his face absolutely primal. I let go of the table to throw my arm over my eyes, then bit down on my closed fist hard, fighting against a scream.

"Shit," he grunted, and I looked at him. His eyes were closed tight, his head tilted toward the ceiling. Suddenly, he let go of my thighs to grab onto my calves, and he lifted them until my ankles were resting on top of his shoulders.

We both moaned at the new angle this gave him, allowing him to thrust even deeper inside of me. He moved with newfound passion, never ceasing, every movement hard and urgent. I could tell he was close, the look of focus on his face, the little bit of tongue he had sticking out from between his lips.

His eyes shot from the mirror to my body to my eyes. "Ya close?"

I nodded my head vigorously. He had no idea how hard I was fighting, how much I wanted us to finish together, how every time his cock slid deep inside me, filling me so completely, it got harder to keep it together.

"Come, Daryl, come inside me," I begged, needing him to come over the edge.

I heard him groan, and I couldn't take it anymore. I threw my head back, not caring how it slammed against the desk. I grabbed back on to the edges, needing something, anything to hold on to as my orgasm hit me, hard, wracking through my body as I spasmed. He thrusted against me once, twice more, my slit pulsing and clenching around him, before I felt him stop and finish deep inside me, the sensation renewing my pleasure and causing another string of unintelligible mewls and expletives to fall from my lips.

We both stayed where we were, the aftershocks rolling through both of us causing an occasional shudder. He let his head fall forward, then turned it to place a surprisingly gentle kiss on the side of my knee as he pulled himself out of me. I let my legs fall from his shoulders, sitting up gingerly, holding onto his biceps to keep from falling over. I rested my head against his chest, feeling both of our bodies settle down, our breathing evening out. I took another look at us in the mirror, how connected our bodies were, before closing my eyes and sighing.

"That...that was," I mumbled, trying to come up with the words to accurately describe the overwhelming satisfaction I was feeling. I laughed once, the sound muffled from his chest. "I'm exhausted."

I could hear the chuckle resonate in his chest, his thumbs making circles on my thighs absentmindedly. "Get to sleep."

I was in full agreement, ready to succumb to the extreme tiredness I was feeling, but the post sex bliss was starting to fade a little. I still felt the pleasure throughout my body, could feel the nice kind of soreness resonating through my limbs, but I felt a little seed of doubt in my mind.

Would we sleep together? Would he take his usual spot at the couch?

He put a hand on the small of my back, pulling me with him as he took a step back. I dropped down from the desk, nearly collapsing on my shaky legs. He caught me, supporting me as he wrapped his arms around me, enveloping me in his warmth.

I shouldn't have been surprised that he was helping me, taking care of me. He was Daryl, rock solid in nearly every way, dependable. But this, this tenderness, wasn't something I saw very often. When he was like this, open, it wasn't often the result of something positive, and nearly always had harsh consequences when he shut himself back off. I had seen him break down over the loss of Merle in Atlanta, had watched him struggle with the ever persistent hope of finding Sophia, had my heart break when I saw him hold Carol back from her lost daughter, but it was a rare thing to have all the barriers come down in a moment of raw satisfaction. I wasn't sure if the circumstance would hold off whatever response he had to his vulnerability when the pleasure wore off.

We both fell back onto the bed, his arms around me as I fell on top of him. I rolled away, pulling his arm with me so that it was around me when I settled on my side. I smiled to myself, quietly thrilled that he hadn't mentioned leaving me. I intertwined his fingers in mine, kissing each of his knuckles.

I only had a few more moments of consciousness, enough to feel his lips at my shoulder, before drifting to sleep.

* * *

I woke up to the feel of Daryl's rough, yet gentle fingers tracing hesitant shapes on my bare back, leaving my skin tingling in the wake of his touch. I was facing away from him, lying on my stomach, but I kept my breathing steady, not wanting to break the moment by letting him know I was awake.

I let my eyes sliver open. Sunlight poured in through the cracks between the boards on the windows, warming the room and illuminating the dust floating in the air. Judging by the golden light, he had let me sleep in.

Any other morning, it might have been nice. But I had a feeling that there were going to be unpredictable repercussions for last night.

I closed my eyes tight, trying to ignore both the beginnings of a headache and the onslaught of snapshots from the night before: his lips, his tongue, his hands, his...

The same ugly doubts that I had begun to focus on last night returned even stronger than before. I had no idea how this morning after would go, or what we were supposed to do now.

Not to even mention how stupid and reckless we had been. No condom, no protection, nothing. I hadn't even fucking told him to pull out. It had been worth it at the time, perfect, because there had been no room for worry between us. But now? Last thing I needed was a pregnancy. I concentrated, mentally checking my inner calendar, trying to do the math. I would know in a matter of days, I guessed. No sense killing myself over it in the meantime. I pushed the seeds of worry to the back of my mind.

I tried to distract myself, wondering silently how long Daryl had been awake. Man had an internal clock that never failed. I had never known him to be in bed past dawn before, and he tended to be even more strict on hunting trips. Then again, we had never been in this situation before.

I was broken from my tired reverie by the sudden removal of Daryl's fingers from my skin. I felt him shift away from me, taking some of the thin sheets with him so that my leg was left uncovered. I braced myself, my heart sinking.

"This shit ain't happenin," he muttered under his breath. He sat up, the mattress rising slightly in his absence. "Get it the fuck together." He gingerly pushed himself to the foot of the bed, barely rustling the covers. I heard the clink of his belt as he pulled his pants on. He cursed under his breath quietly as he left, leaving me to listen to the soft padding of his fading footsteps disappearing down the hall.

When I was sure he was gone, I sighed, sitting up on my elbows to look around blearily. I rubbed my eyes, trying to gain alertness. I searched the bedroom lazily, eyes examining the room that was almost exactly the same but now felt entirely different. Same faded blue walls, same cracked and sagging armchair in the corner, same collection of dusty clothes in the closet, but the sight of the broken pile of clutter at the floor of the desk was new. I couldn't stop my blush as I remembered exactly why we had made that mess, the way his arms had flexed as he shoved the lamp and rest of debris off the surface. I could see the slight grooves in the hardwood floor where the desk feet had scraped against it because of our actions.

My head snapped back to the door as Daryl came back into the room, newly dressed in yesterday's clothes, a twisted walk of shame. He froze in the doorway when he saw that I was awake, his fingers that had been fiddling with a ball of fabric he was carrying stilling as his blue eyes met mine. His arms fell awkwardly to his sides as he stood, immobile. An unspeakable understanding of the night's events and the changes it brought came between us, and his eyes flickered away before he took a step forward so that he was standing in front of the foot of the bed. I looked down, feeling my whole body flush in embarrassment. I instinctively raised the covers up to my shoulders, tucking my leg back under them so that I was less exposed.

He tossed the fabric he had been holding next to me, and I realized he had collected my shirt and shoes for me. He paused at the doorway, raising a clenched fist to the doorframe as he took another glance back at me. "Get dressed. We gotta go."

I nodded quickly, a lock of tangled hair falling in my eyes. He took another moment, his stare unreadable and intense, before facing forward and disappearing down the hall.

I sat up all the way, letting the covers fall around me, and held my slightly pounding head in my hands.

What on earth was I going to do now?

I got dressed quickly and quietly, taking a last look at the dresser mirror before I left. I felt like it was a T.V., as if I could press rewind and replay the events it had witnessed last night. I shook my head as I leaned down to tie my sneakers tight, trying to rid myself of the notion.

We packed silently, both avoiding each other's gaze as we loaded up the truck. We left the flask sitting on the table.

Half an hour later, we were on the road, driving down the bumpy hunting path. I was grateful we had brought it this time. I didn't know what I would do if I had to deal with trying to walk all the way back to the farm with Daryl, a full backpack, and a giant elephant along with us.

I rested my elbow on the frame of the door window, holding my head up in my hand and watching the trees give way to fields.

When we reached the highway leading back to the farm, Daryl cleared his throat. I turned to look at him. The sun was behind him, outlining his figure in sunlight, and I squinted so I could see him. He was leaned back in his seat, gripping the steering wheel with one outstretched, muscular arm. Fuck. I wanted to jump him all over again, and the knowledge that I couldn't combined with the nervous feeling in my gut about what his silence meant was making me irrationally angry.

"What?" I snapped, facing forward.

"Nothin'," he muttered. "Just sayin'..."

He trailed off, feeding my irritation. "Just saying what?"

"We were drunk."

And there it was, the denial I had been waiting for. It wasn't a question, but simply a statement of fact, an explanation that left no room for argument.

I nodded my head curtly at him. "Yeah. Drunk."

I felt him looking at me for a second before he switched his attention back to the road.

The rest of the ride was silent.

**Phew. I know, I know, not happily ever after. Daryl makes things complicated. Hey, if you're mad (or if you're not) take it up with a review. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright, lovelies. You wanted (or demanded) more and I am here to deliver. I'm still not promising a story, but who am I to deny your lovely reviews? Thanks a bunch to lighassnow, MollyMayhem84, Leyshla Gisel, Maddy-MarieXO, i'mnottellin P, and Fany1, as well as anyone else who favorited the story and started following it or me. Y'all are the reason this got written. **

**I hope you still like me when you get through this... ;)**

Thank God it was my turn to keep watch.

The night was cool, the sky clear. I breathed in the refreshingly clean air, enjoying the solitude that came with watch duty. No one else, no talking with people, no problems to figure out. No having to deal with rednecks ignoring me and avoiding my every glance. Just me and the field.

The top of the RV gave me a good vantage point. The moon cast silvery light down onto the tall grasses, the breeze making the field look as if it was rippling with waves. I sat up straighter, scanning the forest line again, but there was no unnatural movement. I half hoped that a walker would show up, something for me to sink my knife into and take out some of the frustration I was feeling. But it was almost annoyingly peaceful tonight.

Almost, except for the unexpected guest Rick had brought back on his rescue mission for Hershel.

I leaned forward, resting my head on my hand, trying to keep my attention away from the barn. This kid was supposed to be gone by now, but here he was, mucking up the silence with his whines. I wanted this to be taken care of. I was filled with a persistent, worrying energy, a ceaseless desire to move.

The open field wasn't the issue. I would be able to see anyone, dead or alive, coming through relatively easily.

The barn was a different story.

I cast another nervous glance at the barn, my foot tap-tap-tapping anxiously against the RV. I knew Shane was keeping diligent watch, but his presence was only a minor comfort. I laughed humorlessly to myself. Shane on watch, that was what we needed in this situation.

The kid – Randy or Randall or something – was in there, bound and gagged. He was just a teenager, and with the way he had been pleading and moaning I doubted he was much of a threat. As long as he was the only one. I was paranoid about what his being here meant for the group. I could already see we were down to two options, and between killing him and trying to let him go again I wasn't sure which choice I disliked more. If only Shane and Rick had been able to ditch him as planned. Now we had even more of a problem on our hands.

I leaned back on the lawn chair, stretching my arms over my head, loosening my stiff limbs.

I snapped back to attention when I caught a light in the corner of my eye. I stood up quickly, walking to the edge of the RV and squinting so I could see as my hand went instinctively to the handle of my gun.

But it was just a fire, the distance making the flames seem small as they flickered. Daryl's fire. Daryl's stupid fucking fire for his stupid fucking camp.

My shoulders relaxed even as my heart sank a little. He had moved there two days after we had returned, leaving in the dead of night without saying a damn word.

Not that the silence was surprising. I had known he wouldn't cope well, but I had hoped against hopes that he wouldn't take it out on me. Before, when either one of us would break under pressure or anger, we could find a sort of calm in each other, a quiet understanding of the conflicting needs to be both alone and comforted at the same time.

Daryl was certainly pushing me to a breaking point. I felt aloof, separate from the others. I hadn't known how much I depended on his presence until he was gone. Even forgetting whatever other feelings there were, Daryl was a grounding force for me, and I felt myself nearly drifting away in his absence.

Drifting away. I sounded like such a girl.

I felt my disappointment slowly giving way to anger, and I encouraged it, willing the roiling resentment to take the edge off the hurt.

I paced to the other side of the RV, back and forth, crossing my arms over my chest, ignoring the look I saw Shane give me.

What did he think he was doing, leaving me to deal with all these people alone? He had been just as much a willing participant that night as I had been. Where did he get off, running away like this?

I turned around, taking another look at his campsite.

"Hey, Shane?" I called over to him, making a decision to act.

He turned his head towards me reluctantly. "Yeah?"

"Can you take over for a second? I'm gonna go talk to Dixon."

He scratched the back of his shaved head, a habit he had developed after Otis. I suspected it had something to do with whatever had happened at the school. Daryl had told me his observations, and I believed him. Hadn't trusted the guy since.

"You're gonna try and talk to Daryl?" he questioned, looking annoyingly smug in his doubt.

"Yeah," I replied, contorting my mouth into a bland smile. No glaring, not even a little bit.

"Good luck on that, Taylor," he chuckled, his eyes not leaving the barn.

I didn't respond, instead taking the few steps down the ladder, dropping to the ground quietly. I took a deep breath, then headed on the long walk towards Daryl.

It took me a moment to make him out as I got closer. He was sitting against the lone tree he had made camp by, holding his crossbow in his lap. He was fiddling with it, running his hands over the different components, his touch gentle. He glanced up at me as I approached, stopping his examination for a moment before giving me a single nod.

I took it as a good sign that he hadn't immediately kicked me out. I went and sat down across the fire from him, criss crossing my legs. I waited for him to make some further acknowledgement, a smirk or a comment, a question of why I was here, but I got nothing.

I couldn't help it. I felt my fierce emotions, so controlling just moments before, fading, the comfort that I only felt with Daryl taking its place. I looked at him, discreetly, watching the shadows of the flames dancing across his form, the yellow light making the curves on his muscular arms more defined. His face, normally more relaxed when the others weren't around, was tense, his lips pressed tight together in concentration.

He looked good, damn it all. I was irritated with myself, and with him for making me feel alone in this. It couldn't just be me that wanted more than the taste I had gotten that night.

I sighed, taking out my knife and digging it lightly into the dirt. I dragged it across the ground, giving my hands something to do as I traced out the letters of the alphabet. We had sat with each other like this before, not needing words to fill the silence, but I was strangely antsy. I half wanted to cry, half wanted to slug him.

I laughed to myself softly, smiling. Maybe I should cry, just bust into tears right here and now. That would definitely freak him out.

He looked up at the sound for a second, then quickly went back to his bow. "Don't you got watch tonight?"

I nodded my head, finishing an F on the ground. "Yeah, but you see, you left me with a kid who won't stop fucking crying and with the ever pleasant Shane."

Daryl stopped, his hands tightening on his bow, his fingers inching towards the trigger. His eyes met mine, his gaze intense. "He do somethin'?"

"No," I whispered, shaking my head before the look in his eyes forced me to glance away.

He looked back down. "I don't trust him further than I can throw him."

I didn't know how to respond to this, to what I was sure was protectiveness, so I decided to be direct. "What are you doing out here, Daryl?"

He looked confused at the change of subject, but his eyes quickly narrowed in annoyance.

"Got tired of these damn people."

I pursed my lips, accidentally stabbing the ground in the stinging flash of anger his words caused, the blade sinking a few inches into the soft earth. I tugged it out, steadying myself. "You including me in that now?"

He didn't even look up. "Don't expect a fuckin' postcard."

I slammed the blade deep into the ground, standing up. I turned away for a second, pinching the bridge of my nose, trying to quell the frustration. I looked back at him. "This is how it goes now? We have sex and instead of admitting it meant anything you never talk to me again?"

"Nothing woulda happened if you hadn't found booze," he said, the volume of his voice raised in anger. I could see his face turning red at the mention of our forbidden night.

"What are you, Daryl, two?" I stepped around the fire so that I was closer to him, putting my hands on my hips, knowing I couldn't back down.

"The hell are you talkin' about?" The question came out forced, and he only paused his movements for a second as he looked up at me before breaking eye contact and going back to his work, his hands now jerking, no longer smooth or gentle.

"If you're out here because of what happened-"

"Nothin' happened," he said, and finally put his full attention on me.

"-then I think it's stupid. I know you, I know this isn't-"

He stood up as I spoke, letting the crossbow drop to the ground, and I stopped speaking. He took a couple menacing steps towards me until he was a few inches away, towering over me. "You what? You know me? Think cause I let you come out there with me it means somethin'?" He gestured out towards the highway, towards our hunting trail. "Don't mean shit."

I almost faltered at the look of near hatred on his face, but I knew better than to take what he was saying at face value. I had seen these defenses before. "Fucking stop it, Daryl! I know what this is!"

"You don't know nothin' about me! Don't you talk down to me and tell me you know what's goin on, like you've got a damn clue when you don't. I didn't ask you to come here, and I for damn sure didn't ask you to spread your legs," he yelled, his voice getting louder and louder. I flinched at his words, and he took a step back. But he didn't stop. I could see on his face that he could tell he had gotten under my skin. He leaned forwards, getting in my face. "You did that all your own."

I backed away, blinking furiously against the burning sensation of tears. I was shocked. Never before had he spoken to me this way, looked at me as if the best thing I could do was leave.

"Fine," I said, hating the break in my voice. I looked up, roughly wiping my eyes, looking anywhere but at him.

I would not cry in front of him.

I walked back to where my knife was still standing in the ground, kneeling down to yank it out, using the moment to take a deep breath before I stood and faced him.

I let my stare go to him, determined to not be weak. The anger in his face fell slightly as he looked at me, his chest still heaving from his outburst. "Fine," I repeated, my voice a strained whisper, before turning and leaving.

I had only made it about fifteen feet away before I heard him, just the edges of his gruff voice talking to himself. I turned my head when I heard a thud, looking back over my shoulder.

He was pacing, running a hand through his hair, grabbing roughly at the strands. He suddenly lunged, kicking against a rotted log lying on its side near his tent, and I heard the thud again as his foot made contact.

I turned back around, walking more quickly than before. Good if he was upset, feeling a tiny portion of the mad mix of emotions dashing through my mind. Good if he cared.

* * *

Sleep didn't come easy for me after Andrea took over my shift.

I laid flat on my back in my tent, trying to concentrate on relaxing my body, but my mind was in an uproar. His words were on repeat in my head, his hatred, his spitting anger. I was confused, and pissed as hell. Pissed at him for his stubbornness, for talking to me the same way he would anyone else.

Furious with myself for still not knowing what I wanted from him, or what else I had expected.

I could see morning light starting to make it through the vinyl of the tent. I closed my eyes, willing myself to forget.

It felt like I had just blinked when voices outside the tent woke me. I yawned sleepily, and was about to roll over and go back to sleep when I heard Daryl's voice. I jerked awake, sitting up, trying to listen.

"You don't have to do this, Daryl." That was Rick's voice, exhausted and distracted.

"You got another plan you ain't tellin' me about?" Daryl asked, his voice more curt and short than usual.

They walked away, their words becoming unintelligible. Something was going down. I scrounged for my things, leaving my pack and not bothering to tie my shoes.

The sun was bright, sending waves of stifling heat that I felt as soon as I came outside. Any hints of changing seasons from last night were gone.

It was suspiciously quiet outside, even though most everybody was sitting in camp. Their heads all turned to look at me, but no one said anything.

I looked to Glenn. "What the hell is going on?"

He looked down awkwardly, reaching up to hold on to his dirty cap. "Daryl's going to...talk to him." He nodded towards the barn, and I looked where he was pointing in time to see Daryl closing the door of the barn behind him, Rick standing watch a few yards away.

I picked up on the unspoken words. Daryl was taking care of the hard stuff. Again. I swayed a little, uneasy. If he was still in the same mindset he had been in when I left him last night, then this Randall kid was in for a tough time.

I didn't notice Dale until he was next to me, his hand on my shoulder. I immediately shrugged away from the contact, an unconscious instinct. I gave him a small, apologetic smile, then refocused on the barn, frowning.

He looked at me, his expression worried but sincere. "You need to talk to Daryl, Taylor."

I looked around at everyone else, seeing what their reaction was to this, but either they hadn't heard or they didn't want to. Lori hung up another shirt, wiping her hands on her jeans, and Glenn tugged his cap down over his eyes while T-Dog took another bite of some food, but nobody pitched in.

"Why me? And why should I?" I gestured out to where everyone was seated. "I don't see anyone else doing any volunteering."

He shifted his weight, looking a little flustered but persistent. "Torturing a boy for information is just the beginning. Where do you think things go from here?" he implored. "And it has to be you, you're the only one who's got a shot in hell at making him listen."

I turned my back on him, reaching into my tent to throw my gear into my pack. I came back out, avoiding eye contact as I zipped it up. "You're wrong. Daryl doesn't listen to me," I said, shrugging my shoulders into the straps. "I'm going out. Daryl's not the only one around here that can do some hunting."

I left before Dale could ask me to do anything more, hiking out towards the trees near Daryl's camp, trying to ignore the yells and moans that were the results of Daryl's handiwork coming from the barn.

I had no intention of hunting, just a desire to escape. There was a creek running around the property, and the woods had seemed clear enough so far that I didn't mind going on my own.

I walked for hours along the water, listening, moving quietly, feeling myself calm down in the absence of other life. Thinking was so much easier without other people waiting on you.

This aspect of myself, the need to be alone, had always been there, but had become more magnified in the months past, and I relished this time by myself. Even as a little whisper stayed set on the one person who I wouldn't have minded being there.

* * *

I didn't return until I started losing the light, the sun shining weakly through the canopy above. I sighed as I got closer to the break in the forest line, reluctant to return to reality.

I stopped in my tracks as soon as I had exited, spotting Daryl at his camp. He was looking at the retreating figure of Dale, his stance agitated. He turned, but stopped when he saw me, looking for a second before bending to rifle through his bag next to the tree.

I thought of Dale's request, looking at Daryl's figure and then back at camp. I groaned inwardly, heading in the direction of Daryl.

He dropped his bag as I got closer, leaning with his shoulder against the tree, crossing his arms. A stand off.

I nodded my head a few times, clicking my tongue , then kneeled down to tie my shoes while he watched. I wasn't sure how this was supposed to go down, how I was supposed to talk to him about any of it. I stood back up, blowing a strand of hair out of my face. Finally, I got tired of waiting.

"Come here," I said impatiently, reaching forward and grabbing his right hand before he could pull away. He stiffened, but let me look. He hadn't bothered to clean himself up yet. The knuckles were red and swollen, the dried blood cracked and smeared over his skin. I swallowed as I saw how much there was, realizing again exactly what he had been doing in that barn.

"You're an idiot. You're lucky you didn't break your hand," I muttered, turning his hand gently and stretching out his fingers one by one, testing them.

He scoffed. "I know how to throw a damn punch."

I rolled my eyes, then looked at him more seriously. "What the hell was that, Daryl?"

The change in his eyes told me he knew that I wasn't just talking about his punching technique. He yanked his hand away from me. "Fuckin' women nagging me today."

I sat down, hugging my knees. "That's not what I meant. I know it had to be done. But it was a little excessive, don't you think? I could hear him screaming."

He rubbed his knuckles, flexing his hand in and out of a fist. "You didn't hear him. He ain't just a kid."

I nodded, accepting. That was all I had to hear. I had only needed to know, to make sure, that it was necessary. He seemed relieved when I didn't ask any other questions, but I could sense there was more. I sat quietly, pinching some dirt between my fingers, waiting to see if he would tell me.

I only had to wait for about a minute before he spoke. "The things he was sayin'... It was fucked up, even for this shit world. Talked 'bout our group..." He paused for a moment, his fist clenching around a dead leaf hanging from a branch. "He talked bout you."

I leaned forward, surprised, but kept silent.

"Saw you and me that day we got back, when Shane and Rick brought him back from the drop off." He paused. "Fuckin' runnin' his mouth about how he could help me keep ya safe…" His words died off. He still wasn't looking at me, crinkling up another leaf and throwing it into the fire, the small pieces causing sparks. "Bastard didn't know what the fuck he was saying."

My heart increased its tempo at his words. I remembered what he was talking about. Kid had managed to loosen the blindfold in all of his struggling, and he had started begging and moaning to every person he laid eyes on, including me. Daryl hadn't reacted well, shoving him hard against the barn door, leaving a bleeding scrape on his forehead. I had chalked it up to just leftover aggression from our night together, but now...

I coughed, choosing not to discuss it further. "What did Dale want?"

He shook his head, his mouth a grimace. "Don't matter. What he wants ain't gonna happen."

His last sentence struck me hard. I didn't know if he was just talking about Dale.

We sat in silence. The longer I was there, the harder I found it to let go and relax. There was a part of me that wanted to forget, to let us go on like this and leave the past few nights behind us. But another part of me was playing like a movie reel, clips of jarring images, of his words and of his actions, both the good and the very bad. The more I thought about it, the less okay I became. I didn't want to keep on keeping on. I wanted him to react to me, to see that he was just as fucked over this as I was. But I knew I couldn't talk to him again. That path was done.

I would have to show him.

I stood up, facing him.

He wasn't paying me any mind, his thoughts somewhere else, and it took him a moment for his attention to narrow in on me.

Before he could stop me, I came closer, standing directly in front of him. I blinked at him, waiting for him to physically push me back or for some vicious verbal lashing to fall from his lips. But nothing came. I was at war, the need to show him how wrong he was just as strong as the intense, unexpected desire I was feeling at being this close and having him accept it.

I bent my head down, grinding my teeth, trying to prepare myself before I looked back up at him. I kept watching his eyes as I slowly, inch by inch, pressed my body against his, not stopping until he was completely cornered between me and the broad trunk of the tree. His body was tensed, his muscles clenched. I tilted up my head so that he had no choice but to look at me as I began to speak.

"This is the last time I'm asking, Daryl. I don't fucking care about Randall or any of it. But right now, you and me. Is this how it's going to be?" I put my hands on his chest. "Are you just going to keep pretending we didn't happen? That you didn't feel anything when you touched me?" I raised an eyebrow as I spoke, biting my lower lip in what I hoped was a seductive manner. I could see a flicker of something in his eyes at my words, a contrast to the stern expression on his face.

I took his hands in mine, just as I had that first time when I asked him to trust me, leading them down to my sides of my thighs, letting his fingers feel the soft skin there. I could feel him resisting, and I pressed myself against him more firmly, trying to distract him from how I was taking control.

"Saying that you don't remember how your touch made me shiver? How when you grabbed on to me, I had to hold myself against you?"

I demonstrated this for him as I spoke, letting my hips move in a deliciously slow circle, teasing, thrilled to already feel his cock moving in his pants at my actions. I smiled to myself, victorious, as his eyes closed, a slight hum in the back of his throat as he let out a breath. I released his hands, and they immediately went to the small of my back, his finger lazily hooking through the belt loops to hold me in place.

I stood on the tips of my toes, sliding my hands under his shirt, running my fingers over the small scratches he had received from me that were still raised on his skin.

"Going to pretend it was just a couple of sips of whiskey that had me giving you these?"

I nuzzled my lips into the crook of his shoulder, letting my teeth graze against his skin as I took a taste of him with a flick of my tongue.

"I still have a mark where you bit me," I whispered, letting my teeth press harder, threatening to break skin. "You saying that was the alcohol? A little buzz that had you needing me that much?"

I suddenly dropped my hand to his crotch, cupping the hardness there and squeezing slightly. He shot to attention, his body straightening as his eyes flashed open. He looked down at me, that now familiar demanding desire all over his face. My body immediately responded, nearly pulsating. I was dangerously close to losing control.

I squeezed again and I could hear the near groan in the back of his throat, his hands moving roughly to my waist, pulling my shirt up with him so that I could feel his fingers against my skin. I pressed my lips to his neck, moving up to his ear, gathering the necessary confidence for my next words. "That's your excuse for how you slid inside of me? How well you filled me? You think it was just a fucking drink that had me coming that hard?"

I nipped at his earlobe, pulling it between my teeth harshly, and I finally felt the growl that I had been aiming for in his chest. He moved his head, his hands trying to angle me so that he could kiss me. Even though my actions had me burning for him, I leaned my head away, pushing against his chest and almost tripping backwards.

He didn't understand, immediately moving to close the distance between us, and I could see the same animal like dominance in his eyes. I held up my hands, shaking my head.

"No," I said breathlessly, swallowing hard when my voice came out unsteady and weak. "On second thought, I'm sure you're right. We were probably just drunk."

I could see the realization cross his face as I made my point clear, his eyes narrowing at me in anger, his hands still half outreached towards me, but I only looked at him for a second before turning around. I stalked away, not giving him a glance back.

**Yikes! Mean Daryl, protective Daryl, teased Daryl, oh my! Don't hate me :) but even if you do... drop a review. Hope I didn't scare too many of you away!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Phew. Anyone still awake out there? Sorry this is late! Prepare yourselves. This might be a helluva author's note. Feel free to skip ahead to the Daryl angst. **

**I had a bit of a hard time with this chapter. My beta, ChooseJoy (who you should have heard of by now. Really. Go forth. Love her. She's fantastic.), is a busy superlady, so I was a bit on my own this time... so if you see any grammatical errors, don't burn me at the stake, just yet. Thanks to the also wonderful MollyMayhem84 for helping me out when she could (read her, too. Seriously.) :)**

**I almost didn't publish it at all, but I feel just the slightest bit bad for leaving y'all the way I did with the last chapter. Kindasorta. Just a smidgen.**

**And whoa! Reviews, follows, favorites! Y'all are pretty fucking awesome. **

**MollyMayhem84- I'M rude? hah. HAH. Funny, considering you picked up my hopes and then trampled all over them in the not so recent past with one of your chapters. :) **

**Ashes- Thanks very much! Hopefully this chapter keeps it up! **

**Maddy-MarieXO- No, she probably shouldn't have... there are a couple things last chapter that she probably shouldn't have done. **

**Guest numero dos- Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it. I like your speculations. Trying to analyze him is hard. **

**Fany1- YOU, sweet lady, are part of the reason this chapter was so slow going, for all the best reasons. After your suggestion I kept trying to rewrite certain aspects from Daryl's point of view. But I can't go there quite just yet. It's too much fun keeping him a question mark. But next chapter, maybe...we're gonna see some aftermath. We'll see what I can do ;) But thanks for your very kind words. I'm glad your hooked, and I only hope this chapter can keep up with high expectations. **

**Thanks also to ChooseJoy, Riain, and Guest number 1 for your reviews, as well as to those that began following the story or favorited. It's all much appreciated. But psssssssst... you quiet followers and favorites should leave a review, as well. It makes me happy, and when I'm happy, I might be less likely to leave Daryl with blue balls. Maybe. **

**Question time- how much do you want me to rehash events of the show? I'm not going back over the show word for word. I'm not. Sorry to disappoint. But does it irk you if I skip over main events? Or do you even care? Let me know if you do.**

**Alright...let's see if I can make up for last week's cliff hanger. **

"Sorry, brother."

The words were spoken and the shot rang out before I could begin to react, to process, the noise seeming impossibly loud, ringing in my ears.

And blood. There was so much fucking blood, splattered everywhere, blood and so much more, bits and pieces of organs that were no longer identifiable. The crimson seeped into the ground, torrential, spreading, and I watched it cover the grass and dirt from my spot on my knees on the ground. I couldn't quite bring myself to look at the face, to look at Dale. I was frozen, my senses slowly coming back to me.

Crying. I could hear that now, too. Lots of it. Andrea, Lori, Carl. So much fucking noise. I closed my eyes, bringing my hands to hold my head, trying to still all of the dizzying thinking. Trying to get the facts straight.

Dale was dead. That much I knew. I had heard the screams soon after leaving Daryl.

Daryl. The shot, the parting words. I needed to see Daryl. Nothing else seemed important.

I launched myself up so I was standing, dodging around the others that were still gathered around the corpse. Daryl was already walking away, and I jogged to catch up to him, grabbing onto his elbow and pulling him back around.

"Not now, Taylor," he said, his voice threatening, and he wrenched his arm away.

I didn't let him go, moving to stand in front of him. I couldn't just let him leave, not after this. I didn't trust him to cope, to talk to anyone. He would instead seethe, alone, a ticking bomb. I reached out, touching his shoulder. He jerked away from my touch, but I persisted, putting my hands on his face.

"Yes, now. Right now. I need you. You've done enough for them. You don't have to be here anymore. We can just leave," I pleaded, pointing towards the truck. He was looking away, his attention torn, and I rubbed my thumb over his scruffy cheek so his concentration was refocused on me, his eyes filled with a bitter exhaustion. "Listen to me. I know you're tired. But I need you now. We can just take a drive. Okay? Let's just go." He didn't say anything, his eyes flicking from me to the scene still playing out by Dale's body. "Please?"

It was inexplicably important to me that I was with him, important to the point that it scared me. If I was being honest, I still wasn't totally sure how my feelings for him had changed. All I knew was that there was something there, a connection stronger than there had been before. But I still needed his help to get through these moments of chaos, the balance that he provided. That much hadn't changed. And there was a selfish, immature part of me that wanted him to need me, too.

So I was relieved when he nodded solemnly at me, even as he held my wrists to take my hands away from his face. I followed him to the cars, towards our escape, not letting the horrors behind us stop our leaving.

* * *

We took the truck. He had aimed first for the motorcycle, but I managed to convince him on the truck, thinking it would be safer. He had insisted on driving, and I had let him, reluctant to push him too far in his current state. I was worried, more than I had been since Merle's disappearance. The loss of Sophia had left some part of him badly damaged, and I hated thinking of what this sacrifice would mean for him.

The drive was quiet, though I had expected as such. We were driving ridiculously fast, pushing eighty, the old truck groaning under the strain. The trees passed in a blur, the road disappearing quickly beneath us. I didn't know where we were going, nor did I ask. I didn't know if he knew any better than I did. I opened my window, trying to release some of the stifling heat and thick quiet.

He took a few turns, and I started to see familiar streets and sights. We had entered a residential area that I recognized as one we had already cleared. He pulled onto a random cul-de-sac that had unfinished structures of houses, a construction zone that had been interrupted by the end of the world and left unfinished. He put the truck in park, cutting the engine, and we sat in complete silence, the only sound the crickets outside. I scanned out the window, but I saw no movement, no light. It looked pretty much abandoned, as it had been the last time we were here. The houses had no room for protection, the forest cleared out around the construction, though nature was starting to take back over.

It was a few minutes before I felt brave enough to state the obvious. "We probably shouldn't stay."

"Ain't no one here," he replied, the pitch of his voice low.

I didn't ask him how he was sure. He was probably right. I was more concerned about him, if he was going to fall over the edge of the precipice he seemed to be on. I wasn't sure how to help, or if I even could, so instead I sat with him, trying to be content with just being here. I looked out the window, keeping a vigilant eye out for any movement, any at all, listening for anything out of place, but I didn't catch anything. We really did seem to be alone.

I nearly screamed when Daryl slammed his fist down against the window, the resulting bang shattering the quiet, the seat belt cutting into my skin as I jumped in my seat. I rubbed my neck, looking to Daryl and ready to ask what the fuck that was for, but he was halfway out the door.

He got out of the truck while I stayed put, wavering as to how to proceed. He slammed the door shut, the frame quivering, putting his head against the glass for a moment before reopening the door and pounding it shut again, the force making the entire truck shake. He did this again, and again, and again, never letting the door stay shut for more than a split second before he had pulled it open again to bang it close. His face was distorted with frustration and anger.

I cowered against my seat, stunned into total suspension of movement before I fumbled the door open, undoing my seatbelt and climbing out of the truck, running to the other side. The slams seemed even louder here, but he didn't stop at my exit, and I hesitantly put a hand on his back. He twisted away from me, but he at least stopped with the door, looking at me for a second before rubbing his eyes with the back of his forearm. I stepped forward, not really having a plan, but he pushed around me, going to the passenger door while I followed.

He reached through the open window, opening up the dash, bringing out his stash of cigarettes and a lighter. He withdrew one and lit it, drawing the smoke into his mouth and exhaling, looking slightly calmer, though I could still see his chest moving with deep, unsteady breaths.

I waited, trying to be patient, scuffing my shoes against the road.

I decided to leave his little door slamming bit alone, for now. I let him take a few more drags before I spoke. "Did you see what happened?"

"Nope," he answered, the smoke swirling.

I wasn't expecting more than silence from him, but I was still shaking, from both his scene and the hellish events of the night. We had seen a lot of shit, it was true. But not like that. Not someone we knew torn open. There was going to be some hell to pay in the morning, aftermath that I wasn't at all looking forward to. I was on edge, jumpy, tapping my fingers against my thigh as he watched. I was trying not to pressure him, but I was still seriously freaked out from his episode. There was a lot going on under that tough exterior. If he needed to break the car apart to let loose some of the pent up aggression, then so be it, but the quiet was worrying me.

He dropped the cigarette to the ground, scraping it under his shoe and leaning back against the passenger side door, replacing the lighter in the dashboard.

I moved so I was next to him, the truck shifting slightly against our combined weight. I nudged his shoulder with my own, trying to get some kind of reaction from him.

"That was good of you, what you did for Rick," I said softly. I knew I had to tread carefully, but I also knew that even if he didn't say it, sometimes Daryl needed to be told that he, and what he did, was necessary.

He shook his head, his mouth screwed up in a frown. "Didn't do nothin' Rick ain't done before." He crossed his arms, looking at me from the corner of his eye. "Quit fuckin' bouncing like that."

I smiled, but didn't stop tapping my finger. "Sorry. Can't help it." My smile faded as I remembered Dale again. "It was fucked up."

He paused a beat before speaking. "You fine?" he asked, his voice low.

Just that simple question nearly broke me. I nodded my head, looking down, blinking quickly before looking back up at him. "Are you?"

He rolled his eyes, pushing off the truck, and I could tell that I had pushed a little too far. "It don't matter. It's fuckin' done. No sense yammering about it."

I was a little annoyed. "You don't have to talk to me. I don't care what you have to do, but this, this stupid insistence you have on denial, it isn't good. I thought I hade made that point pretty fucking clear," I said, pointing at him and then me, referring to our fun times at his camp. Right away, I regretted saying it. Now wasn't the time to bring up what had happened earlier, but I could see from his stare that he was now back against that tree with me.

I licked my lips, trying not to get distracted. "Fine. Do nothing," I backtracked, starting to walk back around the truck to put some needed distance between us, but I only made it to the front by the hood before I heard his steps behind me. He caught my hand, pulling me back so that I was against him.

Somewhere in the last few seconds, he had changed. He wasn't looking at me in concern or anger anymore, but with a startling, weighty desire that caught me almost completely off guard.

No way. Not here. Not now. Not like this. I had wanted him to let loose, to let out the angst, and I could tell that that was exactly what he planned on doing. My words had triggered something, and I opened my mouth, trying to think of what I needed to say to stop what I already knew was going to happen. "Daryl, I-"

He cut me off, holding my head in his hands and tilting me upwards before kissing me crushingly hard, all fire.

"I'm not gonna fuckin' talk about it," He said, his lips moving against mine. "I want you. Right fuckin' now."

I looked up to him, a million excuses and hesitations on the tip of my tongue – this was dangerous, stupid, threatening, not what I wanted – but I abandoned them all the moment my eyes met his. His expression was igniting me, the fire in his eyes burning out any other thoughts I had. If this was what he needed, then I wasn't going to argue. Instead of pushing him away, I nodded vigorously, almost pathetically compliant, putting a hand on his shoulder to bring him back down to me, nearly all of my resolve gone. He ran his tongue over my lower lip before slipping it inside, giving me the taste that was purely his own, all masculinity with an edge of cheap cigarettes.

I pulled a few inches away, even as his hold on me tried to keep in in place. "Do you have something? Protection? We can't be stupid again, we just can't," I said, cringing internally. What we were doing was definitely stupid. I just couldn't bring myself to care the way I should.

He furrowed his brow for a moment before pushing away, going back to the passenger door. I twisted, watching him dig through the dashboard, half hoping that he wouldn't find anything and I could have a sane excuse to convince myself out of this. But he came back, holding a silver foil packet in his hand, and I couldn't stop the rush of excitement and eager happiness at the realization that this was happening.

He set it down on the car next to me, replacing his hands on the sides of my face, bringing me back to him, nothing lost between us. I wove my fingers through his hair, holding him against me as he kissed me. His hands moved from my head to the hem of my shirt, pulling it up, not wasting any time. I didn't even hesitate, breaking way from him to pull the shirt up and over my head, dropping it on the ground. As soon as the fabric was gone, his hands immediately came back to my skin, grabbing at me, moving down the sides of my waist to my hips, his touch demanding, owning me. He pushed me back, lifting me slightly so I was sitting on the hood of the car, still warm from its time in the sun. His mouth moved to my neck, covering it in kisses until he reached my collarbone. He sucked hard, marking me again, and I felt myself smile even as I groaned. Man just couldn't help that instinct.

I let my head fall, feeling my hair swaying against the skin of my back, his fingers tangling in it as the touch of his hands went to my shoulders. He got a hold of the straps of my bra, yanking them down with the cups until my breasts were exposed. He didn't pause, not even for a moment, his lips sliding down my chest with touches of tongue and teeth until he reached a nipple. He took it between his lips, flicking it with his tongue while I grasped his shoulders, clamping my mouth shut against the sounds of pleasure threatening to escape. He switched to the other breast, letting his thumb trace over the small indentation still barely visible from his lapse in control before dropping his hand to my shorts. He got his fingers under them, pushing them down my legs. I lifted my feet out of them, letting them join my shirt on the ground.

I could sense his impatience, his urgency as he placed a hand on my inner thigh and shifted my leg so that I was spread wider for him. He deftly moved my underwear to the side, not bothering to take it off, trapping me in another kiss as he pressed his thumb against my clit, letting his knuckles graze against my opening. He caught my responsive whimper in his mouth, holding onto the back of my neck with his other hand as he rubbed me in slow circles, his fingers slipping slightly against the gathering wetness.

I broke away from his kiss and bent my head, my heart racing, my thoughts jumbled.

All of this was happening so fast.

Too fast.

My hand holding onto his hair used its grip to pull him away, my legs coming closed, his hand leaving me. "Just wait," I gasped, "just wait, just one second."

I kept my eyes closed, not wanting to see him. I was glad when he didn't say anything. Feeling his hot breath against my skin was enough of a distraction without having to look at his face or hear his voice.

"I'm not trying to be a fucking tease, okay? I just need a second," I mumbled into his shirt, gathering the fabric into my fists.

I was aching for him, a heat that was absolutely blistering. But I didn't know if I wanted him like this. It felt too close to being used.

But I didn't have time to think it over. If I waited longer, I was going to lose him, lose this moment between us. I sat up straight, ignoring the questioning, ardent look on his face, taking his hands from where they rested on my thighs, interlocking our fingers and pulling him closer to me. I paused when his face was close to mine, mere millimeters apart, our noses touching, before I tipped forward. I kissed him, slow and tender, seeing if I could get him to respond to this change of pace. It took him a moment, his lips soft against mine in this new rhythm.

I brought our hands by my sides, unwilling to let go of him, opening our kiss to let it go deeper. I let his tongue slide into my mouth, deliberate and languid. We were a little unsteady, unsure of this slow tempo when we were both already so used to fire, but this was raw and sensual, and as I dropped his hands to lock my arms behind his head, I couldn't help but notice how very good it felt.

I moved from his lips down his neck, bringing my hands between us to the buttons on his shirt. I undid them slowly, kissing each bit of his chest as it was revealed to me, taking my time, alternating between my lips and my tongue. I wanted him to feel me, feel this, with the knowledge that there were no excuses for our actions this time.

I put my hands on his chest when the shirt was open, not bothering to take if off all the way, pressing myself to him as I concentrated my efforts back up to his lips. I ran my hands down his arms, massaging lightly. I leaned away, putting a little bit of space between us, reaching down to where the condom was still next to me. I picked it up and put the corner in my mouth, biting down on it to keep it in place and ready as I raised my eyebrows suggestively at him, bringing my hands to his buckle. I undid the belt, pulling it loose, looking up to his eyes as I got to his pants, working quickly. I dropped his pants so they fell to his knees, then inched his boxers down, feeling his stare on me when I finally freed his cock.

There were certain things I very much wanted to do, wanted to taste, but I held myself back, not wanting to change the atmosphere between us, eager to feel him inside me again. I instead wrapped my hand around the base of him, applying a little pressure as, with my other hand, I tore open the condom from my teeth, taking it out and rolling it over his thickness, bending and kissing the tip when I was done.

When I straightened, he was already waiting for me, catching me in a kiss that was just as slow burning as before. I kept my hand on him, reaching a little to cup his balls, feeling him nip at my bottom lip in response, his fingers yanking my underwear down my legs. As soon as they were to my knees, I shook them off, allowing him to switch his grip to my inner thighs, spreading me open for him once again, but this time I had no reservations or complaints. I didn't stop him as he barely dipped a finger inside me, testing me, his body clenching and his dick jumping as he felt how wet I was for him. He put one hand on the small of my back, keeping me upright, and I got a hold of his upper arms, nails digging, preparing myself as he guided his cock inside of me.

My mouth opened in an almost embarrassing sound of bliss as he pressed forward, my words unintelligible. He felt just as good as I remembered, better, our connection not hazed by outside influences. We both groaned when he was fully inside of me, pressing our foreheads together, our breaths already ragged as our bodies united. We stayed, his hand on my back keeping my body close to his as he slowly pulled out, leaving just the head in before thrusting back forwards, steadier. He only stayed still for a second this time before he made the motion again, almost completely leaving me before sliding back in. Feeling his body work was an intense feeling, and I hooked my legs around the back of his, wanting to be even closer. This didn't allow him to go as far out of me, but now his thrusts were deep and closer together, rubbing slightly against my clit.

This wasn't the same as our first time together. His thrusts were slow, taking his time, letting both of us feel every inch of him inside me. But as he moved a little faster, his fingers digging slightly into my back as he came back inside me, I felt that he was getting closer. I encouraged him, moving my hands to his sides and down, squeezing every time he slid into me, willing him to go whatever speed he needed. He took my cue, moving faster, his hand pressing up my back, bringing my breasts against his chest.

I hadn't expected to be able to get off just from sex again, but being this close was having a strong effect on me. His face was tight with concentration as he looked down my body, from my face to where we were connected, and as I looked at his gorgeous features, I couldn't help but sigh his name. At my voice, I felt him groan an appreciation, and he picked up his efforts, no longer calm or controlled. He moved his other hand from where it was holding onto the side of my knee, bringing it between us to where we were joined, pressing his thumb against my clit as he entered me again.

I gasped at this new sensation, but he didn't stop, keeping up a fast rhythm, his thumb playing with my clit every time he reentered me, flicking me or pinching it lightly or simply pressing down. The stimulation was driving me crazy, each thrust getting me to a new high until, suddenly, I was close, very close, exactly where he wanted me to be, exactly where he was.

He bent his head down, kissing my forehead as I tossed my head back in a moan, a surprisingly sweet gesture that made me clench a few times. His thrusts were getting more sporadic, his thumb keeping constant, circling pressure on my clit, and I was soclose soclose soclose.

"C'mon, girl," he grunted, demanding and almost angry. His sexed up voice was gruffer than usual, and as he pinched my clit again, it was enough to push me over the edge. I bit down on my lip, crying out as I came, hard, contracting around him, lights flashing behind my closed eyelids, my mouth open but speechless. I felt him pump into me once more before his motions stopped inside me, his thumb keeping up its circular motions, prolonging my orgasm for what felt like an eternity, my breathing difficult and labored as I tried to remember how my lungs worked.

As my heart slowed, my breathing coming back to normal, I kept myself wrapped around him. This. This was what I wanted, and in that moment, I had to believe that he felt the same.

**See? Not as bad a cliffhanger as it could have been. Hm. This was a riskay situation, to say the least. But you gotta wonder... how's Daryl going to feel about her after this? Tut, tut, Taylor. Backlash might be in order. Or they could ride off in the sunrise. What do y'all think? Lemme know! Drop a review. It's fun. Leaving a review is like an adventure. Not really, but it does make me write faster. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you VERY much for all the follows, favorites, and reviews! Makes me do things like write a whole chapter in two days so I could get this out to y'all. But, again... you followers and favoriters should drop in! Say hi! I won't bite, I swear. **

**To those that did review, an extra special thank you. Extraextra special to those of you that have stuck through since chapter one! It's flattering. **

**lighassnow- Don't do that, hahaha. But I'm flattered. I've got good inspiration. And we share opinions on Fifty Shades of Grey... if you have any requests as to something you'd like to see, let me know! I'm up for suggestions... **

**ChooseJoy- Thanks, lovey. I'm superhappy you're back. The idea of not needing you for my writing is ridiculous. :)**

**Maddy-MarieXO- stay tuned. I've got some more cold shower inducing things planned. **

**Ashes- thank you! I wanted a girl who wouldn't want to be in that situation... might test some limits, though! **

**MollyMayhem84- you're hilarious. And although I don't agree with your last sentiment (I object to no part of the body of Norman Reedus), you still made me laugh. **

**Fany1- Girl! I sent you a whole PM responding to your review, but you didn't respond, so I don't know if you got it. Long response short, yes, I am an OC junkie (and an Adam Brody junkie), but while I know the scene you're talking about, that was not what I had in mind while I was writing. That was from some personal experiences. But you're very sweet, and I'm looking forward to you finding out if you're right about "our favorite hunter." **

**Alright. I'm done. Read on. **

After allowing myself a moment of rehabilitation, I started buttoning up his shirt, smiling at him as I finished. But his face was closed off, contained, not at all reflecting the peace I was feeling, and I felt my smile fall. I looked around, seeing if I could find some source for this change, but we were still completely alone, no disturbances in the scenery.

I swallowed, untangling my legs from his and leaning back. "What is it?" I asked, not quite wanting to hear his answer.

"Nothin'," he replied, turning away from me as he adjusted himself, pulling back up his pants.

I accepted this, shivering slightly at his absence and the loss of heat. I retrieved my clothes, putting them on quietly, hoping that he would give me some sign or acknowledgement that we had just shared the same experience if I gave him the opportunity.

"So?" I asked when he started to move back towards the driver's side without a word.

"We gotta get back," he muttered, ringing with finality.

I shook my head at the strong feeling of deja vu his words gave me. "Wait," I said in disbelief, my eyes wide. "Is this it?"

He stopped, his fingers curling slightly as he looked back to me. "What you mean, is this it?"

I stood so I was in front of him, blocking his path. No way was he just going to fucking leave. Not again. "You felt that, just now. I know you did."

His eyes were hard, his face impassive. "Yeah, I felt you gettin' off too. End of story," he said, his voice stern.

I nodded, trying to keep my face as blank as his. "End of story," I repeated, and it sounded just as ridiculous coming from me.

He paused a beat, the silence between us tense. "You got what you wanted."

I couldn't keep the surprise off my face. "That's what you think?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"What I know," he answered, stubborn.

I laughed once, humorlessly. "Of course. Because that's all I want from life now, Daryl, is your dick. You're an ass." I could see him open his mouth for a retort, finally seeing some anger in his expression, but I kept on, furious. "That wasn't... just you fucking me, Daryl. At least be man enough to admit that."

"Quit tryin' to twist this," he said, pointing a finger at me, leaning in closer. "You're tryin' to put a label on somethin' that should be left well enough alone."

"I'm not trying to label anything-"

"The hell you ain't."

I was getting frustrated, exhausted. Torn. "No, I'm not, all I want is-"

"What the fuck do you want, Taylor?"

His question hit me in all the wrong places. I felt myself crumble, the night finally catching up to me. My shoulders sagged, my knees bent, and I caught myself on the truck. "I don't know," I whispered, and the truth of that statement overwhelmed me. I didn't know what the fuck I wanted. But this? I had been so sure that this time together would have been enough to show him that I wasn't just trying to make things complicated. But instead, I felt used, foolish.

He seemed lost as to what to do at my disintegration, his body stiff. I didn't care. I closed my eyes, trying to relax, regain some semblance of composure in front of him.

I didn't react until he took a step closer to me, reaching out his hand.

"Don't you fucking touch me, Daryl."

I didn't move as I said it, didn't push him away, but he dropped his hand, moving a good distance from me, settling for picking at the skin around his nails.

I took another moment before standing up straight, facing him. "Give me the fucking keys. I'm driving." I held out a waiting hand, but he just looked at me. I took a breath through my nose, trying to keep from reacting violently. I felt dangerously close to an outburst. "I swear to fucking God, Daryl, if you don't put those keys in my hand right now-"

He must have sensed how volatile I was, because he reached into his pocket and brought out the keys, tossing them to me. I caught it, then turned around and got into the truck, cranking the engine and putting it in reverse while he got in passenger side. I took an odd kind of revenge at just seeing him sitting there. Let him see what it felt like to not be in control.

When we made it back to the farm, it was still dark. Glenn approached us as soon as we rolled in, his worried, strained face appearing ghostly white in the headlights. I threw the truck into park, nearly killing the engine in my haste. Daryl shot out as soon as we had stopped, leaving with Glenn in a hurried walk. I took a few seconds longer, pushing Daryl out of my thoughts, trying to remember that we were not the main event of the night. I took one last calming breath before pushing the door open, pocketing Daryl's keys, ready to face whatever was coming next.

* * *

Digging graves wasn't something I wanted to get used to. I volunteered to dig with Andrea and Rick, and even though the work was back breaking, I was thankful for the distraction, eager to do whatever it took to keep away from Daryl. An aching back and shoulders were heaven compared to dealing with Daryl.

I kept quiet while we worked, didn't say a word during the funeral. I wasn't good with mourning, with tears. Never had been. I kept firmly away from Daryl. Even as my body desperately tried to gravitate toward him, hear his voice and feel his closeness, I wouldn't let myself go there.

As soon as the funeral was over, I went back to my tent, wanting to separate myself. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, then grimaced as I felt some of the dirt from my hands rub onto my face. I wiped my hands off uselessly on my thighs, the Georgia red clay smearing against my skin. God. I was a mess.

I changed when I got to my tent, then sat on my sleeping bag, drumming my fingers on the floor before taking my knives from my pack. I started sharpening them, even though they didn't need it. I continued for what felt like an hour, losing myself in the repetitive motions, before I heard Rick asking for me. I dropped everything, crawling out of the tent and standing up straight, coming to stand in front of Rick.

"What is it?" I asked.

He took a breath before he began, already looking as if he hated the question. "I need someone to go out on a run. I'm thinking stockpiling, any supplies you can get that we might need. We're gonna have to start now if we're talking staying through the winter." He ran a hand over his tired face, looking about ready to drop. "I know I shouldn't ask you for this, but someone needs to stay with Randall, talk with Hershel-"

"Rick, it's fine," I interrupted quickly, not needing to hear more. I was eager for the chance to do something, go out there, and I kneeled, putting my knives in my bag. "I'll just get Daryl and we can go."

"Daryl's gone," Rick said, confused.

I stood up. "What do you mean, he's gone? Where the hell did he go?"

"He went with Shane to secure the boundaries," he explained slowly.

I licked my lips, not wanting to show my reaction. It hadn't even occurred to me to leave without Daryl, regardless of whatever fight we were having. We always did these things together, a team. The fact that he had decided to go without me, without even bothering to tell me, made me sick to my stomach. "Fine. I'll go alone. It's absolutely fine."

He didn't look convinced. "You're sure about this? I can see about Glenn or-"

"I said I'm fine," I snapped, leaning down to get my pack. "If Glenn and Maggie can make it into town I sure as hell think I can." I was taking my anger with Daryl out on him, but I didn't care. I was getting real fucking sick of Daryl throwing me for loops. I snatched the keys from his hand as I left. "I'll just take the car and go."

I walked away towards the Hyundai, not giving him a chance to argue with me anymore. I would go on this run. Alone. I could handle myself. And, if the cramps I had started feeling were any inclination, I needed to pick up some fun feminine things of my own. A minor relief in the stress of the day.

A glint of light caught my eye, and I looked towards it, finding Daryl's motorcycle a little ways away.

Wait a second.

I stopped in my tracks, reaching into my pocket, finding his keys that I still had there from earlier. There was one for the truck, and then there was the smaller one for his bike.

I smiled, making a split second decision, heading for the bike instead. I hopped on, relishing the feeling, gripping the handles, having to lean forward to be able to reach. I had never been on this bike before without him. He would definitely freak out when he realized I had taken it.

I laughed as I put the key in the ignition, loving the roar and powerful vibrations. No wonder he liked this thing. I kicked up the foot stand, leaning forward in the seat as I twisted the throttle, revving the engine.

* * *

Daryl was tired by the time they made it back in from the outskirts. There had been more of those dead fuckers than any of them had anticipated, and even with four, the work was slow going. Daryl got on well enough with them, but if he had brought Taylor along, shit would've gone faster, by an hour at least. But that wasn't a fucking option anymore. Not when she had become more of a distraction than anything else. All her questions, her expectations. And that damn look she kept giving him. Disappointment. He knew it well, but not from her, and he sure as hell didn't like that he cared.

Rick and Shane's muttering caught his attention, their heads bent together, quiet. Now wasn't that just damn peachy? He snorted to himself, ready to walk away and let them deal with whatever new problem they had strung up, but just as he was turning away he saw Rick and Shane glance at him, looking away suspiciously fast. Whatever this was, it had something to do with him. He felt the familiar flare of anger and annoyance, changing course so that he went to them instead.

They didn't say anything at first, pissing him off more. He looked to Andrea and T, but they didn't give him anything.

"What now?" Daryl asked, trying to keep his voice low.

Rick hesitated before answering. "Taylor's not here."

Goddammit. "Then where the hell is she?" Daryl asked, looking from Rick to Shane, his temper getting the best of him. He looked around, for someone to man up, but they just stared back at him, looking like damn fish with their mouths hanging open.

It was Shane that stepped forward, cocky and sure of himself. "I'll tell you what happened. Your girlfriend took your bike and left and didn't come back." He pointed towards where the bike should have been, but Daryl didn't take his eyes off Shane. Guy's face was just asking for a punch. He stood up straighter, fingers flexing, but Shane just shook his head, chuckling lowly. "I'm telling ya, girl's bitten off more'n she can chew."

Daryl stepped forward so that he was in Shane's face, looking him up and down, his lip curled. "Why don't you just-"

"Cut it out," Rick interrupted, stepping between them, giving Shane a reprimanding look. "This is not the time or the place."

Shane shook his head, backing away. "Sure thing, Rick," he said mockingly, walking back towards the barn.

Daryl glared at his retreating figure, a hand reached back towards his crossbow, before turning to Rick. "What he said true?"

Rick nodded. "I talked to her about going on a run, and she insisted on going alone. Best I can tell she got your keys somehow and took the bike. Now, I'm not sure why she's not back," he said, tilting his head forward and looking at Daryl seriously, "but is there something else going on here that I should know about?"

Daryl moved back, looking at Rick sharply. "What the hell are you tryin' to say?"

"Neither one of you have been the same since the run you made." He held up a warning hand when it looked as though Daryl might lose his temper again. "you don't have to tell me anything. I only care if this is going to cause problems for the group. I need you both. I'm relying on you." He said the words carefully, their importance clear. "Both of you."

Daryl was quiet, their eyes meeting in a moment of understanding, before he nodded his head, bending to pick up his crossbow, putting the bolts he had made in place. "On a run? Just to the town?" Rick nodded, and Daryl began to walk away, his steps quick and sure.

"Where are you going?" Rick asked, swearing to himself.

"Get my fuckin' bike back."

* * *

Why the hell couldn't this truck go faster?

"Damn piece of shit," Daryl grumbled, gripping the steering wheel tighter. He knew he was pushing it too hard, but he didn't have much of a choice. It was getting close to dark out, and he wasn't liking the idea of being out again without daylight, not after the day he'd had.

He slammed a fist against the window in anger, not letting his eyes leave the road, looking for any signs of her, of a crash, some reason that she wouldn't be back yet.

Not that there was a reason. This was one hell of a stunt. He would give her one thing, she definitely knew how to get her point across. He was sure this was retaliation. That didn't change the fact that it was fucking stupid, going out, alone. With his goddamn bike. Christ, did she even know how to drive it?

He cursed himself for the hundredth time, keeping focused on the hell there would be to pay when he found her. Better that than thinking of any other possibilities. Anger was easier than guilt, than confusion. Sure as hell better than the gnawing fear he was having to relentlessly push away.

He only had about a mile left to go, but the dusk was settling, and he flicked on the headlights. As soon as he did, he saw a figure in the distance, hugging the forest line, limping along.

He recognized her slim form instantly. Taylor.

Daryl killed the engine, slinging the door open, the strong wave of relief he was feeling at finding her surprising him. She barely looked up when he approached her, focusing on walking, her face fatigued.

"Oh, good. You found me."

His eyes scanned her, looking for a sign of injury. Her face was dirty, her complexion pale, a small scrape at her temple, and she was holding her side, around her rib cage, but she looked relatively unscathed.

"What the hell, Taylor?" he asked when he got closer, his relief at finding her coming out as exasperation. He looked around. "Where's my bike? The one you fuckin' stole?"

"Don't you worry, your damn bike is fine," she gasped, then hunched over, catching herself on a tree.

He reached out towards her, paying more attention to the hand at her side. "Lemme see," he ordered, ignoring her attempts to shake him off as he pulled her hand away.

The shirt was soaked through with blood, but he didn't get more chance to look before she had put her hand back, covering it from sight.

"It's fine. I just had a run in with someone. We weren't the only ones going into town." She said all this quickly, breathy. "Bastard had a knife I didn't see."

He didn't know how to process this. "A fuckin' run in? Why the hell are you walkin'?"

"Because I couldn't lift my arms to drive it, okay? It hurt too much. And yes, a run in. I took care of it."

She was being goddamn stupid, but before he could say another word, she had pushed past him, her steps slow and forced. She had only made it a few feet before she stumbled, leaning over, both her hands clamped on to where she was bleeding.

He caught up to her easily. "You're makin' it worse," he said, and gingerly removed her hand from where it was clutching her side, turning her so that the headlights were giving him more light. She gripped onto his shoulders as he kneeled in front of her, bearing most of her weight on him. The shirt was torn through, but there was so much sticky blood that he couldn't tell much else. He swore, taking out his knife and tearing off some of the fabric of her shirt around the wound, pressing the cloth against were the blood was still pulsing. She winced, twisting so she could look, testing her side with gentle fingers.

Shit, he didn't have time to do this here. He stood up, bringing her arm around him, replacing her hand with his own at her side, pressing firmly against the gash, trying to ignore the sensation of her blood pushing between his fingers. This was bad, worse than he could deal with when he had nothing in the way of supplies. He led her towards the passenger side, their steps painfully slow, all too aware that he didn't know nearly enough about what had happened to be hanging out here.

"C'mon, girl, c'mon," he grunted, catching her again. "Why the hell couldn't you just take a car?"

"Because," she said, her voice weak, "at the moment I liked your bike more than I liked you."

He ignored this, helping her up into the passenger seat and hurrying back to the driver's side, sliding in just as she fell unconscious against him.

**Hehe. You know the drill. Even if you're mad... let me know with a review. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry, dearies! I know, this is late. I basically wrote half of this chapter, then had to scrap it all and start from scratch. But it's ready now! And I'll try super hard to keep up on a weekly schedule. **

**This got quite a few followers and favorites with the last chapter, which is really cool. Thank you all! But...*coughcough* not as many of you reviewed. So. I may or may not have to try and bring y'all out of hiding. Don't say I didn't warn you. **

**To those that did review, thank you, thank you, thank you! Lots of love :)**

**and psssst, one last thing before we get on with the angst, I'm also beta-ing a certain story called Damages by a certain MollyMayhem84. And you should go read it. And then go pressure her to put up the next chapter. EHEM. **

**Okay. Carry on. And...apologies ahead of time ;)**

_A few hours earlier: _

My hands were shaking, my vision blurred, and I felt my legs weakening, my knees threatening to buckle. I put both my hands on the edge of the sink, bracing my weight against it, catching myself before I could fall. My stomach was revolting against the swaying images, and I cried out as the muscles there clenched, causing another burst of pain in my side. I tried to take a breath, control myself and my body, but my lungs weren't cooperating, only allowing quick gasps that irritated the wound even more.

I turned sideways, looking at my reflection in the mirror, gently taking the bottom of my shirt and lifting it up, the wet material clinging to my skin. I needed to assess the damage, see the angle and how deep it was, but the area was so messy with blood that I couldn't see much of anything except for red.

I looked around the store bathroom for towels, some kind of fabric, anything, but the only thing nearby was a paper towel dispenser. I lunged for it, desperate for something to staunch the bleeding, only to discover the damn thing was motion sensor controlled.

You've got to be fucking kidding me.

I swore, waving my hand uselessly in front of the sensor, banging my fist against it to no avail. I gave up, trying instead to grip the sides and tear off the cover, but even that was too much strain, and my body screamed in protest.

Fuck my life. It was useless. Paper towels wouldn't do anything for me anyways. I needed bandages, clean cloth, disinfectant. I cringed, thinking of where that knife had been before it was inside me. I leaned against the wall with one hand, but it was so wet with blood that I slipped, falling hard, slamming against the slick tile walls, my shoulder catching the brunt of the hit. I winced as I steadied, the pain in my side distracting me from whatever discomfort my shoulder was having. I was having a difficult time trying to focus on anything, searching the ground for something that might help, but there was nothing. I could feel my hope draining right along with my energy. It was a struggle to keep my eyes open, and I could feel myself start to slide down the wall. I had nothing, no way to slow the blood, nothing to cauterize with or something to use as a tourniquet. As far as I could see, I was screwed, and I was even lacking the energy to care.

But I had to get back, had to fight. For myself and… Daryl's face flashed in my mind. Goddammit. If that asshole could make it back after being run through with his own bolt, I could sure as hell come back from this.

I grunted as I raised myself back to my feet, keeping close to the wall for support, shaking my head to get my hair off my sweaty face. My legs were feeble, and I worried they would give out, but I pushed forward anyways, toward the door, every completed step renewing my desire to get out of there.

My backpack was still waiting by the door. A package of nails clattered to the floor as I picked the bag up, but I didn't bother to retrieve it, instead gingerly slipping my uninjured arm through the strap. I traveled slowly through the shop, leaving a messy trail of smeared blood and debris as I knocked items off the shelves in my attempt to support myself.

When I finally made it outside, I could see my situation was getting worse. It was close to dusk, and I hadn't thought to bring a damn flashlight. It was motivation enough for me to pick up my pace, ignoring the burst of pain that came with each time my foot hit the concrete. Daryl's bike seemed an ever increasing distance away, an impossible target, made worse by the paranoia that I was hearing danger. Every crinkle of leaves, every pitch of wind had me sure there was another threat coming my way. After the past hour had brought me every possible downfall, I was positive the world would want to throw in one last "fuck you." But I got to the bike with no problems, practically crying with relief at the idea of being able to just ride home.

I grasped onto the handle, getting ready life myself over, but the stunning flash of white-hot pain at this small effort was crippling. I bent over, a few tears escaping as I grimaced, clutching my side. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to man up as I carefully tried again, only to be met with the same result, the same smarting throb.

I bit down on the inside of my cheek, trying to hold back the waves of desperation. I had no bike, no way back, no one coming for me. My main way of defending myself, my knife, was useless if I couldn't even lift an arm.

Think, think, think. Think of anything. I grabbed onto the image of Daryl's face that I had earlier, trying to distract myself, imagining again how he would react to his bike gone missing. But that quickly went to how he would react if he found out I had just given up, here, and not trying anymore. He would be pissed. Hell, I was pissed. Pissed and scared. I had never been in this position before, and the thought that this might be what killed me was getting harder and harder to ignore.

I shook my head. Fuck it. I would walk back.

"Happy?" I muttered to no one, looking up at the sky as I began my trek forward, hoping for some kind of miracle to get me out of this.

* * *

My eyes fluttered open as I felt the truck slow to a stop. It took me a moment to come to myself, to register where I was, what had happened. A second later, the pain hit me, cut through the grogginess. My side was wet and warm, and I felt a dry sob escape me, sucking in a rattling breath through clenched teeth. I turned my head, pressing forward into what I realized was Daryl's shoulder, taking small comfort in his reassuring presence.

I was so tired. I felt weak, exhausted, and the pain throbbing steadily in my side was pushing me to tears.

"Goddammit," I heard him mutter, opening the door, leaving me to slump uncomfortably. "'Ey! Need some help!"

Next thing I knew I was being pulled out of the car, arms around me leading me forwards, keeping me upright. I was struggling to keep conscious, stop my head from falling forward, but it was useless. I hated being handled like this, all these people on me. I hadn't minded as much when it was Daryl, knew and recognized his touch, but these unfamiliar hands, along with everything else, were making me feel worse.

"Stop it," I grumbled, trying to twist away when I felt someone lift my shirt.

I opened my eyes to find we had made it inside the house without me realizing how we got there. I was pushed backwards, my knees hitting the couch, forcing me to sit down. I looked around blearily, skipping over the haggard Hershel, Maggie, Patricia, Rick, looking for one face in particular.

"Where's Daryl?" I asked when I couldn't find him, but they ignored me. I tried to focus on what Hershel was saying. Blood loss. Cleaning the wound. Stitches. He sent Patricia out of the room to get something, giving people orders, but these were all things I already knew. I stopped listening, picking back up my search for Daryl. Where had he gone?

"Taylor," Hershel said, looking at me seriously, his voice calm but alert. "I need you to be ready. We don't have time to wait for painkillers to take effect, I need to look at this now."

"Fine," I agreed, not really understanding. The front door opened just as Patricia returned, standing right in front of me, blocking my view of whoever had come in. I leaned back, trying to peek around, and managed to get a glimpse of Daryl, leather clad and leaning against the wall. I sighed with an overwhelming kind of relief that flooded my dazed senses.

My attention was brought back in front of me when I felt cool metal against my skin. I instantly flinched against it, looking down to see Hershel cutting around the fabric of my shirt, pushing me so I was lying down on the couch. I didn't like this, having to arch my neck back so I could make sure Daryl was still there, lingering on the outskirts. I was of two minds, part of me wanting just to talk to Daryl, the other part vaguely concerned about whatever Hershel was doing.

I looked back down to Hershel, who was dabbing at my side with a warm wet towel. I winced as he got closer to the stab, bending forward a little so I could see. I quickly wished I hadn't. I was cleaned up enough now that I could see the damage, slashed skin and all.

"Oh, Christ," I whispered, feeling nauseous, looking away, straining so I could find Daryl again. He was already looking at me, his arm crossed over his chest with his hand tucked under the opposite elbow, his other hand raised to his mouth. He looked livid, his eyes narrowed as he watched us, and I cleared my throat, feeling guilty. Hershel was talking more, about arteries and ribs, but I talked over him, looking only at Daryl. "I'm sorry about your bike. I really didn't want to leave it there."

He only looked at me, his eyes narrowing slightly, and I was about to continue when Patricia reached a pillow out to me. I looked at her, confused, but Hershel was the one who answered.

"I'm going to have to stitch this up, and I can't have you moving. It helps, with some, to have something to hold on to."

I nodded, taking the pillow wearily, reaching for a last look at Daryl, trying to quell the spike of fear. I wrapped my arms around the pillow, pressing my face into it, trying to count to ten.

I wasn't ready for the first poke and pull of the needle. I felt a fierce spasm as he started, the stinging the last thing I felt before I blacked out.

I came to with a sharp gasp, immediately attempting to sit up only to be stopped by Patricia, who was kneeling by my head. I put a hand to my side, remembering what they had been doing, but only found bandaging being taped into place by Hershel.

"Now you can sit up. Gently," he added, his careful hands making sure I didn't move too quickly.

I winced, trying to determine if I felt better, but I was still so haggard that I couldn't think of much of anything except sleep. I found Daryl, still distancing himself, but at least he was here.

Rick sat down on the table in front of me as Hershel began wrapping more bandaging around my middle, weary yet intense as usual. "How are you?"

I was making an effort to fight off a yawn, knowing the questions were coming. "I'll be fine." I looked at Hershel. "Thank you. For helping me."

He looked at me briefly. "We're going to have to get used to helping one another."

Rick sighed, clasping his hands in his lap as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "I need to know what happened, everything you can tell us."

I nodded, trying to ward off the exhaustion. "I got through the hardware store and pharmacy with no problems. Decided to go into that horse tack store, since we hadn't been in yet. The glass was all boarded up. That's why I didn't hear them, two men. Managed to stay low for a bit, heard them talking. Mentioned at least one other woman and a child, but I got the feeling there were more."

"How many more you talking here?" Shane interrupted, looking even more on edge than usual.

"I don't know. I tried to get out without them noticing, but I didn't give them enough credit, and one snuck up on me." Here, I glossed over the details. Snuck up on me was putting it nicely, but I was distinctly aware of Daryl's listening ears. He didn't need to hear about the details, the way I had been shoved against a wall and nearly choked to death. I abandoned that train of thought, zeroing back in on Rick, hoping no one had noticed the break in my words. "I managed to get the gun off him, had to shoot his friend point blank. I didn't see the knife until it was too late." I saw Daryl move from the corner of my eye, but I kept my gaze trained away from him, not wanting to be distracted.

"What kinds of supplies were they getting? Did you see what they had in the car?" Shane fired at me, not giving me time to answer before he was asking another question.

I was about to answer, but instead swayed a little from pure exhaustion, having to catch myself on the arm of the couch. I was running on fumes.

Rick stood, guiding Shane away. They got into a heated, hushed argument.

"This is exactly what I've been saying this whole time, Rick. We don't know who those people are. They might be coming for the kid, part of his group, have you thought about that?" Shane asked, his voice cutting.

"We don't know that," Rick answered, sounding equally exhausted, but firm.

"And you're willing to risk it?"

There was a heavy silence. "We've already made this decision. We're not staging an execution."

I stopped listening, tired of this same back and forth. "They didn't say a damn thing about looking for anyone. Can I go now?"

They looked at each other for a minute before Rick nodded, ending whatever spat he and Shane were having this time. "Of course," he agreed.

Hershel helped me stand, but I looked to Daryl, expecting him to come by my side. We locked eyes, his body stiff and rigid, before he turned and walked out the door. I quickly looked away, trying to shrug off his departure as I was escorted to the guest bedroom.

* * *

It was starting to get chilly, and even from inside the house I was getting cold. I pulled the wool blanket around me, trying to avoid shivering and the discomfort I knew it would bring. I felt better, was able to at least move without wanting to die, just a steady, deep, aching pain that was hard to ignore.

Even so, I was not doing well with this whole bedrest scenario. I stared at the dark wood paneling, bored to tears. The bed, though more comfortable than the sleeping bag I was used to, was old and creaky, and I was starting to feel restless as well as claustrophobic. I wanted movement, wanted to prove to myself that I was okay, even after my little...spill. Rick, Daryl, Andrea and Shane were all going back to the town this morning, to see if there was anything or anyone to find, and I so longed to be a part of it. I hated the idea of being damsel in distress. I wanted to help, be a part of whatever was going on outside.

I yawned. My eyelids were begging for more sleep, my body not satisfied by the brief hours it had gotten. But I wasn't ready to succumb, clinging onto consciousness. It was too soon to fall back out of control. I wanted to be aware of everything that was going on. I lifted my shirt, looking at the clean white bandaging wrapped around my torso, a reminder to keep me awake, as if I needed one.

I was just losing the battle with sleep when the bedroom door opened, and in stormed Daryl, looking just as frustrated and incensed as the night before.

"What happened?" I asked, knowing the answer couldn't be a good one. "Your bike was still there, right? I swear-"

"It was there," he said, looking down at me.

"Alright," I said slowly, "then what happened? Were more people there?"

"Ain't a soul there. Just as dead as usual." He paused, seeming to make up his mind about something. "Tell me what happened again." He demanded, his voice curt.

"Why? I already-"

He interrupted me with a wave of his hand. "Just do it."

I took a calming breath, trying not to be irritated. "There were two guys, alone. I heard them mention two others, one of them a kid, but I would guess there were more than that. They were looking for too much for just a couple people. I didn't exactly have time to sit down and chat. They weren't looking to make friends." I swallowed, not wanting to falter at the memories of my narrow escape. I didn't want to talk about it anymore, especially with Daryl. "We're done here."

"The hell we are."

"I already apologized about your stupid motorcycle, and I told you everything I know. Twice, now. There's nothing more to say." This wasn't quite true. Normally, before shit got complicated, I would be up for this with him, would be able to tell him the details. But the fatigue from last night had gone, and in its place had come some clarity, some general notion about how fucked up this new relationship we had was.

"Just what the hell was goin' through your mind?" He leaned forward. "Fuckin' stupid, going out alone."

"I'm not discussing this with you." I sighed, running a hand through my hair, knowing how gross it must have looked by now. "We needed someone to go, so I went." I glared at him. "End of story, right?"

He matched my glare with his own. "You don't just take a man's bike."

I was quiet for a second. "I told you, I'm done talking. Twice was enough."

But he didn't make any motions to leave. "Ya damn near got yourself killed."

"Well, my regular backup wasn't here, now was he?" I accused. "He decided to go off without even fucking telling me. So I did what was necessary."

He straightened. "Sayin' it's my fault? Goin out, stealing my fuckin' bike, being so damn reckless ya get jumped?"

"Shut up about your bike," I snapped, annoyed.

"Stop bein' stubborn." He shot back.

I scoffed. "That's a new one." We were crossing into childish territory, but I didn't care. "I'm being stubborn. Rich, coming from you, king of denial."

"I ain't the one who fucked up. They didn't even think you were gonna come back." His gaze on me was steady, his eyes intense, even as he seemed to distance himself, remembering something.

"Oh, ye of little faith," I said sarcastically, then stopped. He was being a little more intense than I thought was necessary, and I wasn't sure why. I hesitated. "Did you not think I was coming back?" I asked softly, my voice halting, the mood changed.

His face closed, an immediate wall put up between us. "Don't matter. Ain't what we're talking 'bout."

I groaned inwardly, turning so I was faced slightly away from him. "What ARE we talking about? Because I'll be honest with you, Daryl, I don't have a whole lot to say to you anymore."

And it was true. I didn't want to be a part of this anymore, didn't like that even now I was longing for him to stay. Twice scorned by Daryl Dixon was enough for me.

Ever astute, he seemed to get the sense that this conversation was about to take a turn. I didn't look at him as he left, trying to sort through both the relief and disappointment, wanting to ignore the fact that I was going through some denial of my own.

* * *

Besides being brought a change of clothes, I didn't get anymore visitors that day, everyone having been told I was confined to bed rest. This was fine by me. I preferred being alone to the endless questions and concerns. I listened to the goings on outside the bedroom door, trying to focus on anything outside of my own thoughts. The house was abuzz with people getting ready to really try and fortify this house, bringing in supplies, hammering more planks of wood over the windows, securing all entrances. The drop off with Randall was supposed to happen today, too, and a nervous energy filled the air that made sleep impossible.

I could hear the falls of the hammer as someone nailed more wood in place. One, two, three, bang, bang, bang. It was driving me crazy. Every other person had a job to do, even Hershel's youngest girl, but I was still expected to just sit here.

I held my hands up to my ears, trying to block out the sounds.

Fuck this. If I could fucking walk a quarter of a mile after having been stabbed and still be alive, then I had to believe I could handle getting out of bed.

I propped myself up on my elbows, moving slowly, grabbing onto the nightstand for leverage. I dropped my legs over the edge of the bed, enjoying the feeling of solid ground beneath my feet, wiggling my toes. It felt like I had been confined for days on end, not just hours, and the burst of satisfaction at my success so far made it easier to try and stand.

No sooner had I made my way onto unsteady legs than the bedroom door was pushed open without warning. I quickly sat back down, thinking that it must be Hershel for a check up, but was surprised to see Daryl. He pushed the door closed behind him, then looked at me.

"You're gonna bust the stitches," was all he said before he tossed a bag he was carrying onto the bed next to me. "Your knives and shit. Tents gettin' packed up."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak for fear of saying all the wrong things that were at the tip of my tongue. He turned, putting a hand on the doorknob, one hand placed flat on the frame, but didn't leave.

"Something else?" I asked reluctantly.

"Me n' Rick are leavin'. Takin' the kid out," he said without looking at me.

I wasn't sure what he wanted me to do with this information. "Great. Then I'll come."

"I ain't here to ask ya along," he said, annoyed, finally fixing me with a stare.

I groaned. "Then why ARE you here? You should be gone already."

"Just makin' sure ya don't do sumtin stupid this time," he said, far too casually, turning so that he was leaning against the door with his shoulder, crossing his arms.

I was struck by this. He was telling me he was leaving. He had listened to me. I pressed my lips together, deciding not to comment. "Right. Exactly how long were you down before you were pitching a fit about wanting to leave?"

He glared daggers at me. "I didn't pitch a fit."

"Hate to break it to you, Dixon, but you were about this close to stomping your feet in a full on tantrum," I said dryly. "I can help. I hate just lying here."

"Too bad. I don't got time to be watchin' your ass."

"Me and my ass are just fine without you looking," I huffed, knowing I was losing ground fast.

He pointed to my injury. "That says different."

I hated that he was right. "Well, I don't care. I'm not staying here," I threatened, though I was grasping at straws at this point. I had a blind, almost violent urge to prove him wrong, absolutely sick of the roller coaster he kept strapping me into. I forced myself into a standing position, ready to try and push past him if necessary, but he was faster than me, placing a halting hand on my shoulder. His touch was electrifying, by far the most soothing thing so far, which only served to aggravate me more. I was tired of wanting him.

He pushed me back onto the bed gently, his hand not leaving my shoulder. I could see my attempt had pissed him off, his face contorted in pure frustration. "Jesus, why do you gotta make everything so damn hard? Ya can't just lay on your ass for five minutes?" he asked angrily, his hand still on my shoulder.

His words incited me even more, and I fought back against his hand, ignoring the flares of pain it caused. He leaned further over me, using his other hand on the opposite shoulder, keeping me in a sitting position. I twisted, lifting my right hand to the crook of his elbow and pushing hard, trying to loosen his grip, but the chiseled muscles of his arms, visible even with the leather jacket on, didn't give.

"Dammit, Dixon!" I grunted, still trying to push him off. "Quit manhandling me!"

"Quit fightin', then!" he argued back, looking down at me.

As we continued to stare each other down, I felt my body stop struggling, seeming to realize exactly how close we were, how compromising a position.

We both seemed to understand the inevitable at the same time. He licked his lips, bending down closer to me. His hand slid from my shoulder to the side of my neck, his touch firm, leaving me with no chance of pulling away as he used his grip to pull my face to his. I eagerly pressed forward, our lips meeting in a demanding kiss, both of us wanting something from the other.

I wanted so badly to be able to push him off, yearned for the willpower to say no, but I was helpless to his lips, and worse, I loved it. I loved his taste, loved the feel of his facial hair making my lips raw, loved especially that it always felt so natural between us.

Breathlessly, I broke away and gathered up the collar of his shirt in my fists. Before he could argue, I pulled him down beside me and twisted our bodies, swinging a leg over him so that I was straddling him. I looked down to him, smiling naughtily, catching a predatory glance from him as he placed his hands on my upper thighs.

I reveled in this newfound control, the feeling of power, and I kissed him with renewed vigor, nipping at his lower lip in enthusiasm. I held his face in my hands, running my thumbs over his temples, as he responded in kind, slipping his tongue in my mouth as he hitched my legs, pulling me so that my hips met his. I took advantage, squeezing my legs and grinding softly against him, making him grip my thighs harder. I ran my hands through his hair, stopping to wrap my arms around the back of his neck, further consolidating the already nonexistent space between us.

His hands traveled up my thighs, passing over my ass to the small of my back under my shirt. His fingertips found my bandage, and he traced lightly along it on either side until his hands were at my waist. Even though his work worn hands felt rough against my skin, I felt how gentle he was being, almost cradling me, and I hated it, the feelings it gave me. I could forgive myself this lapse in judgement, could explain it away as pure basic physical need, but I couldn't let the emotion get to me again.

I pulled away from him momentarily, putting two hands on his chest to push him down so that he was lying on the bed below me, feeling a twinge in my side that was easy to brush off. I immediately fell against him, ignoring the nearly proprietary look on his face as he looked my body over. I moved to kiss the line of his jaw while my hands went to work on the buttons of his shirt, desperate to bring this back to a level I could consent to.

"I like the leather jacket," I whispered, letting my body undulate against him as I yanked the fabric of his shirt open, running my hands over his defined chest. He raised his head off the bed to kiss me, and I let him, wanting him, needing this to a degree that almost scared me, magnified by being able to feel him needing me in the same way.

His hands, heated on my already warm skin, got a hold on my hips, keeping me moving against him as he ducked his head so his lips were at my neck-

"Daryl!" shouted a voice from downstairs. Sounded like T-Dog. "Where you at? We got a problem."

"Shit," Daryl mumbled into my neck, both of us frozen.

"Maybe they'll go away?" I whispered hopefully, even as they called for him again. I couldn't believe this.

He dropped his hands from my hips, and I grudgingly rolled off him, the mood ruined. My every nerve ending was on high alert, my senses slowly coming back to me from the Daryl induced fog, the pain at my side returning as the haze ended. He stood, buttoning his shirt, shrugging his jacket back into place.

"Randall got out of the barn, we've gotta go!"

He looked back at me, his face red, but I shook my head, not needing him to stay. "Go," I said. We could...finish this later.

He nodded once, then walked out the bedroom door. "Relax! I'm comin'."

I stayed perfectly still, trying to disregard how empty I felt, in more ways than one.

**Reviews=fuel=cliff hangers resolved. Deal? Deal. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Woohoo, guys! Nine reviews and more followers and favorites to boot! Way to go! This update is well earned. I know it's a day late, but I lost a couple writing days what with moving in and all. For all my guest reviewers/readers out there, look for updates on Fridays or Saturdays. That's when I'll try and get these chapters out there.**

**ChooseJoy- I'm not letting Daryl get soft. He shall stay nice and hard. EVERY SINGLE FUCKING PUN INTENDED. You had to have known I would make that joke, right? **

**ObjectiveObserverFromAfar- He is a little hard to read...and I'm going to keep it that way. It only gets more complicated as more emotions become involved. And yes, she should have, but they're both a little too stubborn to let it go that way. Annoying!**

**ReaJosette- Thank you! Glad to see you join the angsty party that is Daryl Dixon ;)**

**Guest #1- I decided from the second chapter that this would be a Taylor/Daryl story, not an everyone story. I figure, at this point, people have read/watched the show enough to fill in the details. Glad to know you approve!**

**Ashley- Thank god you're back, too! Thanks for dropping in, girly. **

**MollyMayhem84- No, not a one shot anymore. This is officially a thing... though it's definitely not neat and tidy. And I know! I felt like I had used up Daryl's quotient for touchyfeely support last chapter. White knight, indeed. **

**Guest #2- thank you so much! I'll keep writing, you keep reading. **

**NanamiYatsumaki- thank you for stopping in! see you soon ;)**

**xBlackxRosexRebellionx- WOW. That was one hell of a review. And then apologizing for being vague, hah! Thank you for taking the time to write all of that. I wish I had room to respond to it all here, but look for a PM later. **

**Now, a quick side note. Y'all have all been wonderful, but I feel I should warn you: I do not have a grand plan for this story. I'm taking it chapter by chapter. I make no promises as to where this will go, or that things won't get a little (or a lot) dark on the way. And, in case you haven't noticed, there will be a lot of naked angst happening. If that isn't your cup of deliciously sweet tea, then this is not the place for you. I haven't seen any kind of negativity or complaints in the reviews, because you are all lovely people, but I just felt obligated to warn you all!**

**Okay, get reading. I have my end of the bargain all here...**

The sun was rising as Daryl and I got ready to get on the road for our run. It had been two days since the herd had struck the farm, and we hadn't stopped moving since.

Our instructions from Rick had been clear: scout ahead, see about a place to stay, a place that could hold us up for a while. We were all making camp in a small, secluded house for now, but the forest surrounding the house and the lack of any kind of fence didn't have anyone feeling safe. We would have to leave soon.

I threw my larger overnight pack in the trunk of the Hyundai, making brief eye contact with Daryl as he closed the back, a brief second of silent communication. We had been in sync since the attack, and I could tell we were both thinking along the same lines: this was useless. We weren't going to be able to find the place that Rick was searching for. But after Rick's little speech last night, there wasn't any room for argument.

I had been a little too eager to agree to this scouting mission, especially considering just two days ago I had been strictly confined to a horizontal position. The truth was I had never felt less tired. I could feel the exhaustion in the back of my mind, the nagging question of why I couldn't get just one damn night of sleep, but the adrenaline was still coursing through my veins. Rick had talked to Daryl about planning ahead, about leaving, and next thing I knew I was volunteering to come with. I didn't know all of my motivations, but the idea of being alone with Daryl on a mission, complications aside, sounded like bliss after two days of aimless running.

It had taken some convincing, but we weren't high on options anymore, something we were all too aware of. No Shane, no Andrea, a pregnant Lori, a disapproving T-Dog, a still terrified Carol, a Glenn that was tied to Maggie and her mourning family. I was allowed to leave based only on necessity, as well as the relative success Daryl and I had brought in the past.

I slid into the passenger seat, waiting as Daryl exchanged a last few words with Rick before sitting down next to me, slamming the door shut behind him. I saw him cast a last furtive look at his bike sitting in the truck as we pulled out of the driveway, leaving the group behind us.

"We could have taken it, you know," I told him. "Your bike, I mean."

He snorted. "No, we couldn't. Might've slipped your mind, but you're hurt. Don't even know why you're comin'. Sides," he added, "I'm not lettin' you anywhere near that thing."

I grinned, pleased that, at least for now, things were simple. I was grateful to focus on the task at hand, as it made it easier to ignore the possibilities of this run. "I think you're just upset that I look cooler on it than you do. And I'm here because you need me to be." I put a hand on my side, feeling the bandaging through my shirt. "I can't even feel it, not really. Too much else going on."

He glanced at me. "Ain't good. Might mean you're gonna crash."

"I've never been further from sleep, Daryl."

"Know what ya mean." He sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

I didn't answer, instead pulling out the map from the center console. Daryl had etched out grids already, certain landmarks such as the farm and our old hunting cabin marked. I traced my finger over it fondly, getting melancholy at the realization that we probably wouldn't be going back.

"What's the plan?" I asked, ready for a change of pace.

"We got two days, then we head home. If they ain't there when we come back, me n' Rick picked a spot to meet," he said, reaching over to point out a small red circle on the map.

I nodded, leaning back and putting my feet up on the dashboard. "Sounds fine by me."

I looked out the window, letting the silence take over. There was a slight discomfort between us, an unspoken question that I had no desire to address, not yet. I wanted to be content with this, just his presence, be able to ignore everything else for however long I could.

It wasn't too long until we came up on a gravel road cutting off in a side road. Daryl slowed the car.

"What do you think? Want to check it out?" I bent forward, trying to see where it led. "Might be worth it."

"Might as well," he said, turning the wheel, the ride getting bumpy as we got off the asphalt.

The trees soon cleared out, the road blocked by a wooden fencing that continued along the perimeter of the forest line. Above the gate hung a sign from wooden posts: "Silver Spurs Stables."

"Well, holy shit," I said, looking at him with fake alarm. "Maybe we shouldn't go in. There might be another horse for you to freak out."

My words earned me a dirty look. "That damn animal fuckin' threw me," he said, getting out of the car to open the gate.

We pulled through after Daryl got back in, driving slow, both looking out for any walkers, but only saw a few on the outskirts near where the fences had failed. We dispatched those easily, a couple lone walkers were an almost welcome burden after having seen hundreds together.

"Aren't any horses, though," I commented when the last of them had been dealt with and we were back in the truck, sitting up straighter.

"Long gone by now."

"Well, what a relief," I said softly, distracted. There was a house here, as well as some stables set to the side. It was almost eerily familiar, and I found myself looking around to make sure a herd wouldn't appear as suddenly as it had before.

We drove all the way to the end of the driveway, ending in a roundabout between the house and stables. He cut off the engine, and we sat in silence for a moment before he reached into the backseat for his crossbow.

"Let's do it, then," he said, opening the door. "Be quick about it."

I followed after, securing my gun and knife at my hip holsters as I got out of the car. I took a second to look at the dark, boarded up windows of the house, the kicked in door. It looked and felt dead, a kind of emptiness that permeated the air and settled inside me. The wind howled spookily, the sky suddenly overcast as clouds settled, blocking the sun, and I shivered, jogging to catch up with Daryl.

We went for the stables first. He took lead, crossbow aimed steady in front of him, but it was easy to see this place was empty.

He started poking through where the horse blankets were folded on top of a chest in the corner, nudging through them with his crossbow before kneeling to look in the chest.

"Nothin' but blankets," he said, standing back up. "Weird place for 'em."

"They're horse blankets," I corrected. "Go underneath the saddle."

He looked at me blankly. "Whatever, still not somethin' we can carry." He closed the lid back with his foot, and one of the blankets fell to the floor. He stared at it, straightening it out a bit with his foot. "How'd you know, anyway? Didn't you bartend 'fore all this?"

"Yeah," I said, a little pleased that he remembered. I went into the office, searching the drawers of the desk, but only found old papers and a candy wrapper. "Had to get money somehow. But I took lessons when I was a kid."

He nodded, but didn't ask anymore questions.

"What is it?" I asked, coming over to where he was still standing.

He was looking at one of the horse blankets. It was a bit tattered, but oddly vibrant, the old western patterns eye catching. He shrugged one shoulder. "I kinda like it."

I cocked my head at him, amused. "Why?"

But he only shrugged again in response. I turned away, going back to peek through the stalls on the opposite side to see if there was anything interesting. "Well, when you're done shopping..." I said, waving a hand back at the house. This was new. I had definitely never needed to try and keep Daryl on task before, and I couldn't help but wonder if he was a little distracted by the same memories that I was constantly trying to push aside.

We got through the downstairs of the house relatively quickly with none of the dead to slow us down. There wasn't much left to these places anymore, just occasional articles of clothing that we thought could be sturdy enough and, if we were very lucky, food that hadn't long since expired. We went up the stairs together, Daryl first as usual. We split up wordlessly at the top, him turning left with a nod while I went for the first door on my right.

I had found a bathroom. I set my bag down by the door, blowing the hair out of my face. I reached up to open the medicine cabinet, my shirt lifting slightly as I did so. In my reflection, I caught sight of the bandage still wrapped around me, no longer pristine but disgusting with days old sweat and dirt. I grimaced, lifting my shirt higher to see the damage the last few days had done on it. The image of the browned, crinkly bandage had me completely grossed out. I looked behind me, making sure Daryl wasn't in sight before shutting the door almost closed. I turned back to the mirror, taking off my shirt so I could more easily begin peeling the bandage away, layer by layer, my skin loving the fresh air. I let it drop to the tile floor as I unraveled, finally getting to the end to see the ugly red stitching. I twisted slightly in front of the mirror, lifting my arm a little so I could see better. The area was still red, the skin still raised, and it would make a hell of a scar, but all things considered I felt like it could be worse.

I saw in the mirror the door swinging open, and I lunged for my shirt, but not in time.

"What're ya-" Daryl stopped mid-sentence, his eyes traveling down my barely covered body to the bandage in a pile on the floor.

I could feel myself blush. "Don't you ever knock?" I snapped.

"Don't you ever do what you're told?" he shot back at me. "Jesus, girl, you tryin' to get yourself killed?"

"It was dirty," I said defensively.

"Lemme see," he sighed, putting his crossbow away.

"No," I said, moving to put my shirt back on. I wasn't sure why I was so uncomfortable- it wasn't as if he hadn't seen everything I had to offer- but I felt almost defenseless like this.

He grabbed my elbow, stopping me, lifting my arm gently, feeling around the wound with feather light touches.

It felt nice, nice enough to have me imagine those dexterous fingers elsewhere. I instantly chastised myself for that line of thought, annoyed that I had let my mind go to that unforgiving place.

"And you're supposed to know all about stab wounds?" I grumbled, petulant.

"More n' you," he said simply, his concentrated stare going from my side to my eyes. I gulped, feeling lost in him, simultaneously wanting his hands to keep with that ever so gentle touch and wanting him to stop.

He looked away first. "Put your shirt back on," he ordered, dropping his hands. "Find sumtin' for it later," he said as he stalked out of the bathroom.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath before doing as he said, but the damage was done. I picked my bag back up, completely distracted now as I half heartedly checked a bedroom across the hall. I could see the beginnings of rain out the window, the dark clouds barely letting any of the gloomy sunlight filter through the windows. I kept walking down the hall, not finding anything in any of the rooms and getting more frustrated by the minute. I could hear Daryl in the room at the far end, and went to see if he was having any more luck.

As soon as I walked in, I knew I was screwed. This was the master bedroom. A huge, dusty but inviting looking bed took up the majority of the space, but worse, there was a desk here, similar to the one we had booked some serious naked time with. This one held a sewing machine, as well as some spools of thread and other materials, and I found myself suddenly wondering if it would make too big a sound if he had to push it off in a few minutes.

We stood, staring at each other, too close, and I could tell that we were both having the same thoughts. My breathing came faster, my heart starting a hurried rhythm. The tension was palpable, practically had its own heartbeat that stuttered along with my own. I could feel, somewhere, the familiar sensation that this was something I would regret. It was easily drowned out, though, by the want, the need that I couldn't seem to grow accustomed to.

I reached out to touch the bottom of his shirt, not being able to withstand the desire, but he inched away barely out of reach from my fingers. "We should go. Nothin' left here," he said, his voice low.

"It's raining," I offered immediately, gesturing vaguely to the window behind me where you could still see the barely there sprinkles of rain still falling. "So we should probably stay."

It was such complete and obvious bullshit, but I didn't care, didn't even mind that I had been reduced to this. I wouldn't think about the after, not yet. I could do this, needed it, again. It could just be sex for me. If I couldn't trust myself to be able to say no to him, then I could push away everything else. Let him do what I knew we both wanted.

I could feel my breath catch in my throat as I took a step closer to him, taking one of his hands in my hand and bringing it to my face, turning my head to kiss his inner wrist. He didn't step away from me this time, just watching with that look of steely determination and challenge. I put my arm down, but he kept his hand on my face, tilting me slightly up, rubbing his thumb over my lower lip, his brow furrowed. I could feel everything, every feeling of wanting to be in control, of wanting it to be meaningless and not hurt when he left, crumbling.

"It's just sex, right?" I said, breathless, trying to think of the words that would make this okay. I didn't care right now if it was true or not, if I was lying to him or to myself. His proximity was confusing, his touch intoxicating, and the incomplete thoughts whirled through my head as I looked at his lips. I licked my own subconsciously, wanting something to happen but not ready to go there myself. If he kept just holding me here like this I wasn't going to be able to stop the onslaught of unwanted emotions. I scrambled for something more to say, trying to put this back in the perspective that I wanted it. "Just two bodies, right? It doesn't have to mean anything."

I expected this to have him relieved, free of any obligations to me. But, instead, I only seemed to piss him off more, and I wondered briefly if it was because he could sense the truth or the lie in what I was saying. I knew I was in for something, though, saw it in the way his mouth set, his jaw clenched in a hard line.

But, for some reason, his anger only made me hotter, fanning the flames. I wanted him to show me what he was feeling, take out our frustration together in the best way we knew how. I couldn't take it anymore. I stood on my tiptoes, shoving myself forward to catch him in an unexpected kiss, throwing my arms around his neck. It only took him a second to match speeds with me, wrapping his arms around me. I slid my hands down into the back collar of his shirt, desperate to be closer, digging into the strong, defined muscles of his back and shoulders. I brought my hands back around to his front, trying to get at the buttons of his shirt, but there was no space between us for me to work.

I let my tongue glide over his bottom lip before pulling slightly away, keeping my hips pressed against his, trying to get a rise out of him. I felt almost restraint in the way he was handling me, though his face and lips were telling a different story as he watched me unbutton his shirt with stumbling fingers. He was simply holding me, not grabbing or clawing or demanding, not trying to feel the skin under my shirt, none of the same desperation I was feeling. I couldn't tell if he was still feeling reservations about this or if it was my injury or what, but I didn't care. I fucking wanted him, now, no barriers, no clothes, and I had a suspicion I knew exactly how to get him there.

I pulled his shirt from his shoulders and let it fall to the floor, then took a step backwards away from his reach, holding up a hand to stop him when he moved to close the space.

"Just watch," I ordered, something I had noticed in our time together that he liked to do. I took another step back, trying not to trip under his hungry stare. I had never done anything close to a strip tease before, but I wasn't nervous. It was hard to feel anything but turned on when he was looking at me like that.

I put my hands on the hem of my loose fitting tank, pulling it up and over my head slowly, relishing the way his gaze fixed immediately on the skin being revealed, his hands in tight fists. I balled the shirt up in my hand and bit my lip playfully before tossing it at him. He caught it as it slid down his chest, but I had already started on my jean shorts. I undid the button while he watched, then, smiling, turned around, bending over slightly as I pushed them down my thighs, trying to give him every incentive to abandon any restraint or control he still had. I looked over my shoulder as I let the shorts fall past my knees to see his chest heaving, his whole body tensed, and I could practically feel myself getting soaked knowing he was so close to where I wanted him to be.

No sooner had my shorts joined my shirt on the ground that I felt him hook his finger around the band of my panties at my hip, nearly snapping them as he turned me back to him roughly so my chest was flush against his. We were both breathing hard, the skin on skin contact getting us both further, only needing a little bit more of a push. I let my fingertips brush over the skin of his chest before settling on his shoulders, using my hold to bring him slightly down so I could lean in closer to his ear.

"Take me hard, Daryl," I whispered, letting my tongue outline the edge of his ear before kissing his neck, his jaw, down to his collarbone and chest where I could hear the gruff sounds of his arousal on the edge of every breath. I reached behind my to unhook my bra as I spoke, flattening myself against him as the bra dropped to the floor. The finger he had hooked in my underwear traveled around my body, stopping at my ass where he slid his whole hand under the fabric, squeezing me, and I let my teeth graze his skin in response, pressing my lips to his chest. His other hand traveled from the small of my back to my spine, trailing over me, causing waves of goosebumps to come over my flesh. He didn't stop until his hand was tangled in my hair, fisting it, gathering it up into a ponytail in his grip.

Suddenly, he used his grip on my hair to pull me a little away from him, making me gasp as he yanked me harshly so that I was turned around, my back fully pressed against his chest. He didn't release me, instead pulling me back even further so that my head was resting on his shoulder, looking up at him. I let out the breath that had caught as he looked down at me, his blue eyes holding mine as his other hand, starting from my hip, worked its way up my body, over my stomach until he was cupping my breast, his thumb passing over my nipple, not stopping until it was hard. He watched me intently the whole time, nearly smirking at the look of pleasure on my face, so I used my position to grind back against his erection.

He only gave me an inch of satisfaction for my actions, his face slipping from a smirk to battling for control for just a second before he pulled my hair again, almost hard enough to make me wince.

"Nuh uh," he said, his low, gravelly voice giving me shivers that went straight to my core. He squeezed my breast again before dropping his hand to my panties and slipping his fingers under the waistband, his knee nudging my leg open. I whimpered as he slid a finger barely inside of me, testing me, going deeper when he felt how wet I was.

I gasped as his fingers started moving in earnest, adding another finger as he pushed in and out of me, keeping his pull on my hair firm. My limited range of motion, not being able to express how good it felt or relieve any of the pleasure, was making the experience all the more intense, forcing me to focus only on what he was doing. I grappled for something to do with my hands, settling for his arm that was stretched across my body. I held on tightly, my fingers digging in as I clenched my teeth, but with this hold I could feel his muscles moving as his fingers continued their relentless motions. Worse, every time I opened my eyes, I was stuck looking at his face, his sexy jaw and lips and eyes and-

"Daryl, please," I begged, my voice breaking, though I wasn't even sure for what I was asking. I could feel myself getting close, my legs shaking, my whole body rigid and strained as I arched against him. At my plea, he suddenly stopped, withdrawing his fingers and trailing them up my stomach, leaving a path of my own wetness on my skin. I opened my mouth to protest his stopping, desperate, but before I could speak, he pushed his fingers into my mouth, letting me taste myself. I took a second, a little surprised and hesitant, but it only took one glance at his face to make me close my lips around his fingers, swirling my tongue around them. I was rewarded with nearly a growl as his stare hardened, primal, his grip on my hair slackening as he took away his hand. I straightened, smiling, thinking I had scored a victory, only to feel his hand on my shoulder. He bent down, putting his lips on my shoulder as he used his body to press me forward, his teeth dragging a little across my skin. I let him, allowing him to bend me over in front of him as a thrill of excitement went through me.

He tugged my panties down impatiently, and ran his hand down my spine, over the curve of my ass, dipping down to run his finger over my opening, making me bow my head and grip onto the side of the bed in front of me. He used his foot to spread my feet wider, enough so I could feel the air running around me. He was taking his time, teasing me, and I knew he was feeling pleased with himself, but right now I didn't care about much else but finishing. I listened intently to the sound of his belt coming undone, and watched with surprise as he took a condom out from his jeans pocket before them and his boxers fell to the floor. I dismissed the questions I had about why he had protection, not really caring, and instead waited, holding my breath, the anticipation torture.

But, instead of him, what I felt next was his hand on my neck, dominating, and then he once again gathered my hair into his hand. He used this to make me lift my head back a little, my body even more tight and taut as my back arched further. Then, before I was expecting it, he slammed into me, using his grip to bring me back into him at the same time, making me cry out. He only gave me a second's recovery, a firm hand making its way onto my hip and digging into my flesh before pulling out and back in again, hard, making my whole body shake. He kept this rhythm, unforgiving, and I could already tell I was going to be sore tomorrow but I didn't care as long as he kept doing this, making me feel this way. His hold on my hair slackened, and strands kept falling down, sticking to my sweaty face. Occasionally, a thrust would be accompanied by him pulling my hair, just slightly enough to make my body tense even more around him. I could hear his breathing, his grunts, the sound of our skin coming together again and again, my own moans, and it all sounded so fucking hot. Being brought to the edge earlier had me already so close, and I knew I didn't have a hope at holding off, every muscle screaming.

"I- I-" I gasped, trying to warn him, but I couldn't even get the words out, instead holding on to the bed even tighter as my orgasm overcame me, the spasms rocking through my body and forcing unintelligible sounds to fall from my lips. It was all I could do to keep standing, my knees nearly buckling. He kept his motions throughout, making it last even longer, almost unbearable as my sensitivity increased, every thrust felt tenfold, and I nearly wanted to cry from how much I was feeling. He came over the edge soon after, stilling inside me, and he pushed us forward so that we could collapse on the bed, him on top of me, his heart racing in time with mine. He didn't even give me a break then, covering my bare neck in messy kisses before I felt him bite the back of my neck in a last gesture of the dominance I had just experienced. I heard myself mewl at the feeling of his teeth, wanting to roll away from him before he killed me from pure bliss but lacking the strength.

We lay there for a while, the rain falling harder now, the pattering sound against the window soothing as both of our breathing returned to normal.

"Why'd you have a condom?" I asked sleepily, thoroughly exhausted.

He rolled off of me, sitting up, discarding the condom in the trashcan. "Seems smart these days, don't it?"

I accepted this, too tired to ask anymore questions. "I'm fucking sleepy."

The bed shifted as he got off the bed, and I listened to the sounds of him getting dressed. "Sleep, then. I got watch."

I frowned, wanting him, in my sleepy state, to be next to me. "Sure?"

"Ya got a few hours. Then we're gone."

I nodded, not even listening anymore as I fell into very satisfied sleep.

* * *

Daryl's grumblings woke me. I closed my eyes tighter, trying to ignore him, but his sharp hiss and a few more mumbled expletives made me open my eyes.

He was seated at the desk, his chair facing me. I wanted to smile, happy that he hadn't at least stormed off, which wouldn't have surprised me, but I was distracted by what I saw. In his lap was the same horse blanket I had teased him about yesterday. It took me a moment to take in what he was doing, stunned into disbelief, but then I smiled.

Daryl Dixon was sewing.

"Whatcha got there, Daryl?" I asked lightly, turning on my side and propping my head up.

He licked a drop of blood from a finger and shook his hand out, glaring at me, before pushing the needle back through the cloth. I could see some of the fabric on the ground where he had cut a hole through the blanket. "I'm makin' somethin'."

I nodded my head slowly. "I can see that. Care to tell me what?"

"Dunno. Be gettin' cold 'fore too long. Fuck!" he shouted as he pricked his finger again.

"So you're making... what? A jacket?" I yawned. "Looks like a poncho, if you ask me."

"Good thing I didn't ask ya, then," he said, still concentrating. "Goddammit," he muttered, and looked at me before thrusting the blanket in my direction with an outreached hand. "Can't you do this?"

I raised an eyebrow at him, sitting up, hissing at the ache of what felt like every single one of my muscles. "Uh, just what the hell makes you think I know how to sew?"

He shrugged, but withdrew his hand. He put the needle between his lips, tugging his head back to pull the thread through.

I couldn't help but laugh at his obvious struggle. "I'm sorry, but could you be anymore of a girl right now?"

He narrowed his eyes at me, even as the corner of his mouth lifted in a grudging smile, then continued. "Shut your mouth."

I laughed again, but it quickly faded as I realized just how naked I was. It had been too easy to slip into our natural rhythm. I pulled the sheets up around me and cleared my throat, getting his attention as he tied off the thread from his the stitches he had made, then swirled my finger in a circle. "Turn around."

"Nope," he said easily, still looking at me.

"What?" I asked, a little shocked at the unexpected refusal. I shifted a little, uncomfortable. "Yes."

"No," he repeated, looking almost cocky.

I blinked. "Why the hell not?"

He dropped the poncho, leaning forward, suddenly very intense as he stared me down. "Ain't it just bodies?"

I froze, recognizing my hurried words from earlier. My eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape and finding none. He wasn't supposed to say that. I didn't even know what he meant, what point he was trying to prove. He was still looking at me, unwavering, a clear challenge. I swallowed, my mouth set in a frown. That smug bastard.

I looked into his eyes, trying for the same self assured confidence he was currently exuding as I kicked the sheets off of me slowly. I swung my legs around so I was sitting at the edge of the bed, and then, just in an attempt at revenge, opened my knees, just a little, enough to distract him. I let him look for a second before standing up equally slowly, but couldn't keep eye contact as his gaze kept flicking to my body, my breasts, my legs, my stomach, my neck. I was trying to keep from blushing as he looked, not wanting him to know how much he was affecting me. I allowed this for a few more moments before getting dressed, his eyes on me the whole time.

As soon as I had buttoned up my shorts, he stood, picking up his new poncho and placing it over his head. I raised my eyebrows, shocked that he had actually made something that not only worked for him, but that made him somehow even more impossibly appealing, especially after our little eye fuck session. I snapped my mouth shut, expecting for him to acknowledge what had just happened, but he only put his crossbow in place.

"Need to get goin'," he said in a matter of fact tone, and walked out the door. "Get your ass movin'!" he shouted from down the hall.

But I was rooted in place, confused as all hell. What the fuck had just happened? Where was the rage I had nearly come to expect?

"Taylor!" he shouted, from downstairs this time, and I shook my head in an attempt to clear it as I reached for my backpack.

This was getting even more complicated than I thought.

**Okay. Deal worked out last time, right? You read and review, and then I update. Don't slack off now, dears... see you next week ;) **


	7. Chapter 7

**Hm, down from nine reviews to seven. So, you like cliff hangers? Yes? Hm. I'll keep that in mind... ;) More reviews will tell me different. To those that did their part, you're kind of fucking great. And sorry this is a little later in the evening. Only just got hold of my laptop.**

**NanamiYatsumaki- much obliged! Thanks for keeping up!**

**xBlackxRosexRebellionx- WOWZERS. Thanks so much! The time you put into that is crazy flattering. Keep it up if you wish, my dear, as I won't ever be complaining. **

**ObjectiveObserverFromAfar- Only almost had to fan yourself? Hm. Just have to try something else, then... ;) And yeah, she is, and it might not be a very fun place to be. **

**nomnomnorman- I, too, am partial to Daryl's poncho. I'm glad you like what I write! I kind of tend to have fun with it. Mr. Reedus provides some awesome inspiration. And I'm happy to see you join the angsty party. It's a fun time. **

**ReaJosette- I kind of just went for it. I'm glad you like where it turned out. **

**whosegirl- I hadn't seen the commercial, but I googled it and found it and god I love those ATT commercials. They're so funny. And here's the update you wanted! Glad to get another reader. **

**MollyMayhem84- I'm pretty proud of you for sticking it through, my lil self described prude. **

**And thanks for reminding me- guys, the last chapter had some inspiration from a Mr. Reedus- who said that if anything happened with a certain somebody on the show, he hoped it ended with someone biting the back of someone's neck. And the costume designer said she wanted the poncho to look like Daryl had sewn it himself. SO. Thank them for that. **

**Alright. That's all I got. Just know that I'm a little uncertain about this chapter- it's only thanks to my beta ChooseJoy that this was worthy of publishing. It's a little shorter than usual, but I think y'all will be just fine. :) Thanks again to those that reviewed, followed, and favorited- it keeps me going. **

The last few days since our return from the run had been particularly hard on everyone.

Daryl and I had made it back from our run without mishap but also with no luck finding a place worth staying. Nobody had taken this news well, and the cold weather and ceaseless moving had everybody on edge, even more so than usual. I think that was what had Rick holing us up here, in some random house. We had set up a campfire in the backyard, so at least we had warmth, and a place to sleep for the night.

I was taking another walk around the perimeter of the house, checking to make sure there weren't any entrance points we couldn't cover, but this place was at least well boarded up. I sighed, coming back towards the camp. I missed the days when boarded up windows were all we needed, the time before the herd. I didn't know what would make us feel safe anymore.

I stood a little ways from the campfire, close enough to feel some of the heat but far enough away that they wouldn't include me in any of the conversation they were having. I leaned with my shoulder against a nearby tree, crossing my legs at the ankles. Daryl was standing across the fire from me, I guessed hoping to avoid the same interactions I was. Things had been slightly better between us since our run, at least civil. We were at an unsteady impasse, one that I wasn't sure how to get past. He had made some kind of stand when he had insisted on watching me get dressed, but I was clueless as to what I was supposed to do now. I looked at him, only to find him already staring. I quickly glanced away. I was getting fucking tired of the game, especially when I didn't even know if I was playing alone.

A particularly cold breeze came through, and I shivered, finding myself jealous of Daryl's poncho. I looked around the circle of our people, getting stuck on Glenn and Maggie. At the burst of wind, Glenn had pulled Maggie to him. I watched as they snuggled closer together, completely natural as Glenn wrapped his arm around her. Maggie leaned down as he gently rubbed her arm, putting her head on his shoulder. An odd feeling hit me as Glenn turned to put his lips to her forehead.

I was nearly entranced. It looked so…simple, their affection, their love for each other. So obvious, easy, right. Was that really how it was supposed to go, supposed to work? Cuddling, hugging, touching, just letting themselves do what they wanted without agonizing over what it would mean? I tried to imagine how that would work for Daryl and me: Taylor and Daryl holding hands, Taylor and Daryl hugging, Taylor and Daryl snuggling in a blanket under the stars to fend off the cold… Even in my own head, the images were impossible.

I blinked, surprised to feel tears welling up in my eyes, and turned away before they could catch me staring. Those images could never be a reality, and it was unfair to expect anything more from him. There was just Taylor and Daryl fucking, nothing more. I felt sick to my stomach at seeing what I was missing, what level I had sunk to. When had this happened to me? It had just been one fucking night, a moment of loosened inhibitions that had set off this floodgate. When had I turned into this needy, unrecognizable thing?

I felt Daryl's eyes on me, ever astute, but I avoided his gaze, instead pushing myself off the tree and announcing that I was going inside. I walked quickly to the house, nearly tripping in my haste. After I had gotten the door safely closed, I leaned against it, closing my eyes and reveling in the dark and quiet. It wasn't often I could get alone time these days, and I was certainly in no mood to put on a good face. I felt about five inches short of a full on meltdown.

I made my way upstairs, the cracks in the boarded up windows letting in glints of moonlight that helped guide me up the stairs and into the plain bedroom I had claimed as my own upon first arriving. I sat on the bed and took off my shoes and socks, stretching out my limbs. The whole room was chilly, even the covers, but I didn't mind the cold anymore. The frozen floorboards against my bare feet and the chilled surface of the bed helped keep me alert and focused, making it easier to stop from falling apart.

I only had a few minutes to myself before the bedroom door creaked open. I immediately knew it was Daryl, could easily recognize his outline. He paused, waiting for me to say something. When I didn't, he came in anyway, shutting the door behind him.

He stood there for a moment, his hand still on the doorknob. "What the fuck happened to you back there?"

This was new, pretending to care about me when I was nothing more than a body for him now. In a way, it was worse, just emphasizing what we didn't have.

"What?" I snapped, annoyed. "Am I not allowed to leave if I want to? You do it all the time."

He seemed a little taken aback at my tone. "The hell's your problem?"

"Did it occur to you that I was leaving to get away from you?" I was lashing out, I knew, but I was unable to contain myself. I wanted him to suffer the same way I was. Let him wonder what the hell I was doing for once.

He still looked almost baffled, but also pissed off. "I didn't do anything!"

I stood up, coming closer to him. "You didn't do anything? Are you fucking serious?" I felt a full-blown war of mixed emotions. I was angry with him, disappointed with myself, wanting to push him away and at the same time terrified that he would actually leave. And, most controlling of all, I was desperate to prove to myself that I was wrong about us. I wanted closeness, to feel the warmth we had when we were together, and even as I opened my mouth to push him further away I found myself leaning closer.

"You're such an ass," I said before crushing myself to him, kissing him with enough force that he was pushed back into the door that thudded against our bodies.

It took a second for him to catch up to this sudden change, but then he responded with fierceness to match my own, and I was at least awarded the satisfaction that he craved my body just as much as I did his.

It was easier in the dark. Not being able to see his face made the guilt at what I was doing fade faster, made the shallowness and desperation of my actions less obvious. I felt his lips at my ear, sliding down easily to the curve of my neck. His hands came to my waist, pulling me to him, and I couldn't help but wonder if the darkness was making him more comfortable, too.

I was completely malleable under his touch. He had learned my body quickly, his calculating hands and hunter's attention to detail memorizing my lines and curves, the spots that made me squirm. His hands were firm and demanding as they moved up my rib cage, underneath my shirt, thumbs grazing the underside of my breasts. He pushed me down to the mattress and followed after me, holding himself off of me with strong arms, leaving my hips rolling up in an attempt to meet his touch. I put my hands on his elbows as he bent down to kiss me, travelling over his arms and up to his shoulders. I grasped him there and pushed him off and to the side, turning us so that I was on top of him. I sat up straight, victorious, enjoying the view of his ruffled hair and the bit of midriff I saw from his raised shirt.

But it wasn't enough. I wanted to own him, own his body the same way I so frequently felt he owned mine these days. I bit my lower lip, thinking, then slid off the bed. "Stand up."

His annoyance at my frequent mood swings of the past ten minutes was beginning to show. "Why?"

I grabbed his shirt, pulling him up until he was finally standing. "Because I want you to watch me again."

I kissed him quickly before going down to his collarbone, undoing the buttons of his shirt as fast as I could. I kissed each bit of skin as it was revealed, going down slowly to my knees in front of him until I had reached the buckle of his pants. I dealt with this with an equally hurried pace, needing to see him look at me with the same urgency.

I glanced up to him as I pulled his pants and boxers down, at least gratified to see him watching me hungrily. He was already hard, ready, and the knowledge that I could do this to him gave me the confidence I needed. I gave him a small smile before looking down, swallowing, a little nervous. I hadn't done this in quite a while, and he wasn't exactly giving me a good starting point, but I was more than up for the task.

I took the base of him in my hand, looking at him from lidded eyes as I licked him up his shaft, taking the head into my mouth and swirling my tongue around him. He gave me a sound of approval, closing his eyes, fisting his hand in my hair. I worked him with my mouth and hand, getting more into it. He kept looking down to watch me, and I would try and give him a good view, keeping eye contact as I took him into my mouth, but he could only take a few seconds before he would have to look away again, throwing his head back.

"Goddamn," he grunted, his hips thrusting forward, and I let him set a rhythm for me. Hearing him want me like this, knowing I was the one making him feel this way, was turning me on.

It didn't take long, his body clenching, his hand in my hair urging me to take him in deeper. I moaned around him, trying to push him over the edge, and he groaned. I leaned away for a moment, taking a deep breath before putting my hands on his thighs to brace myself before putting my mouth around him and taking him as far as I could go, his hips rocking. That was enough, and I felt his hand trying to pull my head back, a silent warning that I ignored. I could feel his body convulse, and I prepared myself as he came in my mouth with a groan, his hips stilling.

He collapsed back onto the bed as soon as he was done, so far gone that he didn't even notice me pulling his pants back up. I smiled as I adjusted him, doing up the buckle on his pants. I liked this, wearing him out and then being the one to take care of him.

"Jesus, why ain't we done that before?" he mumbled, and I knew he meant it as a compliment, but it hit me in all the wrong places.

I stood up wordlessly, all feelings of pleasure from my overwhelming success waning fast. I felt myself reach a new low, absolutely sick to my stomach. It was one thing to wonder if he was just using me. It was quite another to willingly prove he was.

He was still lying on the bed in the same position, spent, not saying anything, his breathing still not normal. I took his silence as a dismissal, and I turned around, heading for the door.

"Where you goin'?" he asked, and I looked back to see him with his head turned to me.

"Aren't we done here?" I said reluctantly, wanting very badly to just leave.

He scrunched up his eyebrows. "What's that s'posed to mean, done?" he said, sounding a touch irritated.

"You know exactly what I mean," I said, my voice wavering.

He didn't respond. He sat up, pushing his hair back before looking at me. Even in the dim light, I could see how intensely he was staring. His eyes traveled over my face, breaking me down, and I looked away, knowing he was going to be able to read me too well. He looked me over for a few seconds before gesturing me closer with a backwards nod of his head. "C'mere."

"No," I said, shaking my head even as I dropped my hand from the doorknob.

"Don't start with the bullshit again, I ain't got the patience for it tonight." He looked at me for a beat longer before lying back on the mattress, looking completely worn out. "I ain't usin' ya or whatever. Don't know why ya ain't figured that shit out yet."

I hesitated, not at all sure how to deal with this, but did as he asked, coming over to sit on the mattress next to his prone figure, criss-crossing my legs. It was still so dark, and even though my eyes had adjusted, I could barely make out his shape. But I could feel him there all the same, knew the familiarity of his presence well. I tried to focus on this, just sitting together, trying to take the edge off the sharp mix of emotion still cutting through me. I was more confused than ever. I didn't want to allow myself to analyze his words too much, trying to take them at face value, but I had so many questions on the tip of my tongue.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound that of our quiet breathing, before I heard him groaning. He yawned, rubbing his eyes before resting his arm over his head. He sighed, a deeply exhausted sound, and his eyes drifted close.

It was a rare moment of his guard being let down, defenses gone, and I was surprised he was having it in front of me, especially after his admission. He had been almost nothing but fences ever since that first night together, and I had almost forgotten that we had ever been any other way. I looked at his nearly relaxed face, the evidence of his weariness more pronounced without the anger that normally masked it. I felt myself softening towards him even more. As much as our relationship was fucking me up, I couldn't help but appreciate him. The last week had been hard on all of us, even by the world's new standards, but Daryl was taking on a lot of responsibility, and even though he wore it well, it was beginning to show.

I was filled with a different kind of desire, not urgent, not firey hot, but instead the simple urge to touch him. I wanted to reach out, brush his hair off his face, lay my head on his shoulder, soothe away the pain with my fingers, rub the tension from his stiff limbs. I thought back again to Glenn and Maggie, how easy it had been for them to just hold each other, and it only reinforced the feeling that nothing would be simple like that for me and Daryl. I could feel the same sadness return, a deep seated kind of guilt, but at the same time, a faint hope. Hadn't he just said that he wasn't using me?

I inched my hand forward on the covers towards him, hesitating before brushing my fingers against his arm. I froze, waiting for him to jerk away from me, but the only reaction I saw was him opening his eyes a sliver. I continued, slowly, using both my hands to massage his arm softly, working from his wrist up.

"Is this alright?" I asked quietly, needing affirmation. He grunted again, looking almost content, and I smiled a little, continuing my massage. This was the closest we had ever come to just being normal, whatever our definition of that was. I couldn't stop thinking about it, though, Maggie and Glenn and the differences between us.

"That's never going to be us, is it?" I asked, quietly, unable to help myself.

He didn't open his eyes, though I saw his breaths become less deep as I pulled him back from sleep. "What're you goin' on about now?"

"Glenn and Maggie. We're never going to have something like that." I hated this line of questioning, feared where it might lead, but I couldn't leave it alone.

He blinked a couple times before leaving his eyes barely open, staring at the ceiling for a second before answering in an unsteady voice, "No."

Even though I had expected this answer, I had to try hard not to show my reaction. My hands stilled before pulling away, and I nodded too quickly, blinking away the tears, fighting to keep my voice steady. "That's probably a good thing," I said, scooting to the edge of the bed, suddenly needing space both from him and the conflicting things he was telling me.

He rubbed his eyes again before looking at me. He seemed frustrated, but I couldn't tell if it was with me or with himself. "I ain't-"

I stopped him with a shake of my head. "Don't." I couldn't be here anymore. I went for the door, stopping only long enough to keep him from coming with me. "You stay here. Sleep. I'll take watch for you."

I left before he could say more, walking quickly down the drafty hallway and stairs. The house was eerily quiet, most everyone having gone to sleep by now. I made it to the bottom of the stairs before I had to sit, holding my head in my hands. I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to hold everything in.

**Phew. Again, I'm a little nervous about this one, but this is where I've decided to go. For now. Who knows? Daryl is an unpredictable one... As always, reviews are appreciated. Or PMs. Or anything. Really. And then we can see if Daryl can keep this up next week... ;)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Was it just me, or did this weekend run a little bit slower? Oh well. You know what made it better? Thirteen reviews, that's what. Not to ignore those lovely people that followed and favorited. AWESOME. Y'all make writing fun. That means kind of a long AN, because I like talking to you. Feel free to skip ahead! **

**MollyMayhem84- Differences of opinion, my dear ;) And he does at that. I can imagine how well that went over. "Norm...could you...just...not be...porntastic? Can you not? It's a baby. So." Not that I'm complaining. Not really. **

**Guest- Hmm. Maybe Daryl can take a card out of someone else's book. He's gonna have to pick things up a little bit. **

**NanamiYatsumaki- No, it most certainly would not. But being able to see a functional relationship when you're stuck with someone as slow as Daryl would not be a fun time. **

**Maddy-MarieXO- It was harsh, that's for sure. In his defense...I don't know if he was being an asshole or if he didn't think about how it would sound. Seriously. It's a mystery to me. **

**ObjectiveObserverFromAfar- ah! I wrote you a pm because I like to hit up longer reviews personally, but you didn't respond so I'll cover some of it here. Thank YOU for riding the emotional roller coaster, hah! Last chapter was a bit of a downer, it's true. There might be a little bit of a theme with these two. Patterns are hard to break, especially when you don't really want them to. As for anything else, feel absolutely free to PM me. Always available! I try to be, anyways ;) **

**TWDfan- Poor Taylor, right :( getting space might prove difficult. **

**Ashley- thanks, doll. And it's not so much that I'm worried about reviews- but I am addicted. It's kind of gratifying. And I like knowing what you all think. But thank you very much for thinking that. **

**lighassnow- losing sleep? To read? My story? THANKS! I'm flattered! And, er, worry not... I'll keep it "coming." **

**xBlackxRosexRebellionx- you already know how great you are! Always look for PMs from me about your reviews, dear, because there's always too much to say for me here. But know that I appreciate the time it takes and I am super happy that you've had that response.**

**PrincessPiPi- update soon, you say? You got it ;) I'll try and keep it interesting. **

**Thanks SO MUCH to ReaJosette, lovelivebelieve, and hideher for their reviews, and a thanks as well to wordsonpage, BumbleBeex, OMGItsA, Uroborus, TheGirlFromSouth, pandasninjasndkiwis, lovelivebelieve, lotrfreak007, eagles 1988, and KelJamison for follows/favorites. Y'all can always drop in for a review, too ;) join the fun! (Doesn't angsty Daryl seem like a fun time?)**

**OKAY. WOW. THAT WAS LONG. But I'm done! I'm kind of excited about this chapter, and a little humbled that most all of you had a rather protective reaction for Taylor, so I'm very eager to see how this goes over. Read on!**

This had just not been my fucking week.

We were settling in for another long, uncomfortable, cold night, and I was supposed to be putting up a tent, but I was distracted. I was watching Rick and Daryl talking, huddled together over the map Rick had spread over the bed of the truck. I knew this wasn't good news for me. If he was asking Daryl to go somewhere, then I was sure that I would immediately be paired with him, as we always were. That was one of the worst parts of this whole fucked up situation: no one knew what was going on. I had never been exactly close to anyone else here, because Daryl was all that I had needed, so I didn't feel the need to clue any of them in on what was happening behind closed doors. But that meant people assuming that everything was fine. It was hard enough trying to pretend to myself that I was okay, as if I wasn't constantly on edge. Putting on an act for everyone else was becoming its own ordeal. We were all together, all the time, and I found myself having to watch my every word, look, and action, especially around Daryl.

We had only really talked once since that screwed up night. He had finally gotten fed up with my silent treatment, cornering me when we were supposed to be packing up. I could still vividly remember how he had looked at me, thoroughly exasperated but not enough to completely mask the hunger I still saw in his eyes.

"What the hell is wrong with ya?" he asked, anger laced with frustration.

"Nothing is wrong. Never been better."

"I ain't askin' again."

His proximity and intensity almost convinced me to answer honestly. I had instead brushed him off, insisting that I was fine. He hadn't tried to talk to me again since.

Judging from the conversation I was currently witnessing, that was about to change. They seemed to come to an agreement, Rick clasping Daryl lightly on the shoulder before walking away. I watched, waiting for Daryl to unconsciously shrug him off or move away, but I was surprised to see him simply give Rick a nod of understanding. I wondered silently if our time spent together was benefitting him, making him more comfortable with touch with not just me, but the others, as well.

I didn't like this thought, but couldn't get it unstuck from my mind. It seemed incredibly unfair that he would be better off, whether I was imagining it or not. The injustice of it had me abandon my half assembled tent to come over to the truck where Daryl was still standing. He glanced at me when I approached, folding up the map and putting it in his pack.

"Was my name involved in that conversation?" I asked, wanting to be direct.

"Yeah." He started rifling through the bags in the bed of the truck, checking through what was already good to go, removing the unnecessary items. "Rick wants us to-"

"No." I cut him off before he could share the plan. I didn't even care what it was.

He stopped, dropping the bag he had been searching. "What ya mean, no?"

"I mean, no, I'm not going." I stared at him, trying to keep my expression stern. "You can take someone else. Or I'll go with someone else. But I'm not going with you."

He removed his crossbow slowly from his back before looking at me. "Quite bein' stupid. I ain't goin' with someone else. Neither are you."

I crossed my arms. "I'm not being stupid. This is the smartest thing I've done so far."

He came around the corner of the truck so he was standing in front of me, looking down at me. "You're serious 'bout this?"

"As a heart attack, Dixon."

He turned his back on me, pacing away a few steps before coming back to face me. "I thought ya said you were fine," he said through gritted teeth, and I knew it was taking an effort to remain calm.

"You couldn't have actually believed that." He looked as if he was in actual physical pain, the muscle in his jaw twitching. "We're never going to have anything. We're not going to be a Glenn and Maggie. And that's fine." I swallowed, breaking composure for just a second around the lie, hoping it wasn't too obvious. "But for my own sanity, I need a fucking break."

"This 'bout Glenn and Maggie again?" he asked, frustration weaving into his voice.

I didn't say anything, too surprised that he hadn't just blown up at me for bringing this up. I dropped my crossed arms, letting them hang at my sides, hoping to look less defensive so he would continue.

"We-" he dropped off, and I could tell this talk was already becoming too much for him. "Glenn and Maggie. That ain't ever been us."

I could feel my heart accelerate a little at his words. "Keep talking," I demanded urgently, not being able to string together a complete sentence for fear of losing his candidness in the time it would take.

He stared at me for a moment longer, his face hard, before he pulled back a little. "Whatever. Fine then. I ain't going either. Ain't risking my ass out there with one of them."

I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off, shaking his head. "It's done. I'll go tell Rick to find someone else."

"You're joking," I said, alarmed. "What are they going to think if you tell them I'm not going?" I stepped closer, trying to emphasize the seriousness of what he was threatening. "They don't know what's going on between us. I want to keep it that way."

He shrugged. "Ain't my problem."

When he started to walk away, I grabbed his arm, pulling him back. "Why are you doing this?"

He paused for a beat. "I told ya, I ain't goin' without you."

I didn't know what that was supposed to mean, what I was supposed to do with this stupid display of misplaced stubbornness. I just wanted him to leave me alone. I didn't have any more in me for his constant bullshit mood swings. But I couldn't risk what he was saying. Him refusing to go would be questionable enough on its own, but if he brought me into it?

"Fine," I conceded, defeated. "I'll go. But don't pull anything. I mean it. I'm done."

I turned away, walking back to the tent before he could say anything. I was definitely going to need to prepare myself.

* * *

"So, are we close yet?"

I could practically feel his irritation. "Yeah. Ask me that one more time and I'm dumpin' your ass on the side of the road."

We had been on the road for three hours, but I was none too happy about it. I was still full of resentment for the way Daryl had gotten me to go on this stupid hunting trip, and I was combatting him in the best way I knew how: by annoying the shit out of him.

I humphed, putting my feet up on the dash, crossing my arms. "I still don't understand why we're driving so far."

He let out a harsh breath through his nose. "I fuckin' told ya, there ain't nothing to get in a neighborhood but small stuff. That ain't gonna cut it."

I shrugged, making a noncommittal noise. "I just thought you were supposed to be good at this whole hunting thing, is all." I looked at him, giving an overly apologetic frown. "I guess not."

His only response was to press the gas harder. I looked out the window, smiling to myself. We were going to some grounds where he had heard, before the apocalypse, there was some good game to find. The area was pretty remote, so at least there wasn't too much concern about unexpected dead surprises. The sky was overcast, but even that wasn't a good enough indicator for how nasty it was outside. The wind was biting, unforgiving with the already cool air, a reminder of how dire our situation was becoming. It wouldn't have been a problem if we had electricity, or an actual place with walls to stay, but for now, things were looking rather grim.

I turned back to Daryl, wanting to cheer myself up. "By close, you mean we're almost there, right?"

He gave me a look so deadly that I was a little surprised I didn't just keel over in my seat. I gave him a bland smile, and he turned back around, muttering blush inducing expletives under his breath.

I held in a laugh, turning back to face out the window, my mood sufficiently improved.

We pulled in at a hunting stop half an hour later. He cut the engine and was out of the truck before I had even unbuckled my seatbelt, slamming the door hard enough to make the frame rattle.

I followed after him, watching as he went through our things in the trunk of the bed, looking for what we would be taking with us today. The area was relatively clear, branching off into different trails.

"Aren't you happy you forced me here?" I asked brightly, walking around and pulling the hatch so that I could help him unload. We hadn't been sure how long this would take, or what we would find, so we had needed to prepare for everything. It was unusually dark outside, the sun not penetrating the thick blanket of clouds.

"Shut it. We don't got time. You dragging your feet this morning made us lose light."

I pulled myself up so I was sitting on the edge of the truck bed, crossing my legs.

"Make yourself useful and find me a damn cigarette," he said, and I knew I had gotten on his last nerve if he was resorting to nicotine. "Should be in my bag."

"Why do you need a cigarette?" I asked with fake innocence, just wanting to push him more, but I pulled his backpack into my lap anyways.

"Because that fuckin' mouth of yours is giving me a damn headache," he growled.

I smiled to myself, opening up the smallest compartment to find what he wanted. I saw a box at the bottom and reached for it, but instead of his Marlboros, I found myself looking at a package of Trojans.

I stared at the box for a moment, incensed, all my satisfaction from the day's victories very quickly replaced with indignant anger. Without thinking, I threw the box at him as hard as I could. It hit him square in the back, and he whirled around, looking for the threat. When he saw me sitting there, absolutely seething, he went from surprised to pissed.

"What the fuck was that for?" he demanded, looking around on the ground for what had assaulted him. "Ya throwin' shit at me now?" As soon as he saw the box, the packets spilling out, he stilled completely.

"Fucking condoms, Daryl? I haven't talked to you for days and you still think just because we're alone, I'm going to fuck you?" I was yelling, but I didn't care. The release felt too good.

He turned around, at least having the decency to look a little chagrined. But his voice was strong, his tone mirroring mine. "Keep your voice down!" he ordered before softening a little. "It ain't like that. Those've been there."

"It's not like that?" I asked, losing what little composure I had left. "Because it was like that last week. It's been like that every time," I said, my voice breaking. He walked over to me while I spoke, stopping when he was in front of me. Looking at him only made it worse, brought up every feeling I had been repressing for him, good and bad. I had been holding in so much for so long, and I was horrified to feel the prickling in the back of my eyes that signalled tears. I blinked rapidly, trying to stop it, but there was nothing I could do. I looked down, brushing the escaped tears away with the back of my hand, dreading to see how he would respond to this show of vulnerability. "Don't bullshit me, okay? I know exactly what it's like."

I looked back up to him, expecting him to have backed away at the first sign of crying, but he was still here, looking at me with a very serious face, his brow drawn. His blue eyes were so ridiculously piercing that I was finding it hard to keep his gaze and a steady breathing rhythm at the same time. It was unfair how much he was able to do to me with just a look. I felt like he was undressing me with his eyes, emotionally naked, not making it any easier for me. Being so close to the one person that was both causing my distress, but also had the ability to make it better was tearing me apart.

But I wasn't so far gone that I didn't stop him when he reached a hand up to my face.

"Don't," I whispered, shaking my head, but even to me my voice sounded weak. "I can't. I just can't, alright? I don't need you."

But I did, and I knew it, and now I was afraid that he did, too, and I hated it all, but not enough to stop him again when he took my head in both of his hands, keeping me still. He bent closer to me, and I closed my eyes, waiting for his mouth on mine, but instead I felt him brush his lips on my forehead in a soft, chaste kiss. I opened my eyes in time to see him pulling away, his callused thumb brushing over my cheek, my lips parting. I couldn't read his face, couldn't see anything but the way his eyes were blazing. He was making it too easy to pretend this mattered, touching me this way, and I knew I shouldn't believe it, but when he dropped his hands and started to move away I pulled him back anyways.

"Wait," I said, and he let me bring him back down to me, finally kissing me the way I needed him to. He put his hand on my back, guiding me as he gently lowered me down, my back hitting the hard floor of the truck bed, but I couldn't even feel the discomfort, lost to his taste.

He grabbed at the hem of my shirt, pulling it up, his cold fingers raising goosebumps over my stomach. As soon as the shirt was over my chest, he broke away from my lips, going instead to the space between my breasts. He followed along the edge of my bra, skimming his lips over the swell of my breast, kissing me gently every time my rapid breathing brought my chest closer to his waiting mouth.

I let my head fall back, unable to watch anymore. It felt so good, too good, but it was still hard for me to try and ignore the voice in the back of my mind wondering when this would turn against me. I closed my eyes, trying to be in the moment, focusing on the feel of his goatee brushing against my navel as his kisses traveled down my stomach. He tugged at my shorts, and I immediately raised my hips so he could slide them and my underwear off my legs. I felt uncomfortably bare, the cool air rushing over me, and I put my arm over my eyes, biting down on my lip as he ran his hands up the outside of my calves. When he reached my knees, he moved to my inner thighs, pushing my legs gently apart for him. I resisted, not wanting to be this exposed, both physically and otherwise. I felt his lips on the inner side of my knee, kissing me softly, and I let out a low breath through pursed lips, reluctantly allowing my legs to fall further open.

I didn't know what had brought out this side of him, what emotions had him kissing me almost tenderly down my thigh, but I didn't know how to handle it. I was so used to his hands being demanding, kept expecting to feel a flash of his teeth in another primal urge, but there was none of that in his actions now. I almost wanted to cry at the overwhelming mix of sadness, shame, frustration, and happiness that were all a result of us being together right now, but none of it was enough to drown out the breathtaking desire I felt as he got closer and closer to his destination.

I could feel my body pulsing, and it was overpowering everything else, any doubts, anything but the need to feel him touch me. I felt my hips rise up of their own accord, desperate to feel him closer to me, but his hands immediately secured me to the floor, preventing me from moving. I could hear him shift, his hands coming from my hips to underneath my legs, pushing them up and bringing them back down so my thighs were resting on his shoulders. His nose grazed my slit, his warm breath hitting me the stubble on his cheek rubbing my thigh, and I whimpered, knowing he was so close to where I wanted him. I opened my eyes, staring up into the cloudy, branch obstructed sky while my hands tried to find something to hang onto besides his head.

"'Ey," he said, the gruffness of his voice making my breath catch.

I waited for him to go on, touch me, something, anything, but it seemed he actually wanted a response. I refused to look at him, pressing my lips into a thin line. "Hm?" I squeaked, whimpering again when he placed a lick dangerously far up my thigh.

"What's that you keep pullin' with me?" he asked, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. "I want ya to watch."

This elicited a ridiculous sound somewhere between a moan and a dry sob. Where the hell was he getting this confidence from?

I couldn't even put much thought into it, distracted by his fingers digging into my hips with the roughness I had come to crave. I tried to take a deep breath, but the effort was ruined by my lungs' lack of cooperation. I gave up, closing my eyes tight for a few seconds before opening them and tilting my head forward. I was instantly met with his eyes looking expectantly into mine. I couldn't hold his stare, the sight of Daryl Dixon between my legs almost enough to do me in all on its own.

"Shit," I whispered, locking my ankles behind him and picking a spot in the space above his head to look.

He squeezed my hips again, commanding my attention, and my eyes once again locked onto his. His eyes flashed wickedly, his gaze locked onto mine as he gave me a slow, broad lick, from the bottom of my slit all the way to the top.

I couldn't watch anymore, my head banging back against the floor as my back arched. He had to use his forearm to pin my hips down, but thankfully he didn't stop, giving me another stroke of his tongue along the length of my core.

I needed something to do with my hands, pulling first at my own hair and then grabbing at my breast, sliding under the cup of my bra. He must have been watching me, because I felt him growl, the vibrations making me even more sensitive as he flicked his tongue back and forth over my clit. I cried out, digging my heels into his back, straining against his arms. He didn't let up, his tongue delving deeper into my folds, making a circuit from my opening to a swirl around my clit, making my hips move with his tongue.

I moaned out his name, the repetition of his movements bringing me to an almost painful brink. At my plea, he moved his hand from where it was wrapped around my hip, bringing it to the top of my mound, his elbow hooking around my thigh. His fingers inched down into my folds, not stopping until he found my clit. His fingers felt shockingly cold compared to the intense heat between my legs and his warm mouth, and I groaned at the simple temperature difference. The contrast of his fingers and his tongue had me reeling, my moans only getting worse when he pressed hard against my clit as he slipped his tongue inside me. I couldn't stop my hands from entangling themselves in his hair, holding his head against me as he slid his tongue deeper, in and out and back in again until my thighs were trembling around him, my whole body shaking with tremors. One more lick of his tongue and I was lost, my orgasm coming harder than I could handle. His thumb kept its circular track around my clit, his tongue relentless, every motion magnified to an almost painful degree.

"Stop, I can't, please," I begged, even as my thighs clamped around him to keep him in place.

It wasn't until my body had settled and the clenching had ceased completely that he withdrew, removing my legs from where they were still locked around him so that he could stand. I immediately grabbed his shirt to pull him down to me, sitting up to meet him halfway. I kissed him almost frantically, inviting his tongue, loving the taste of myself on his lips.

He only allowed this for a few more seconds before removing himself from my grasp, his hand on my face stopping me from coming after him. He stayed close, his chin almost touching the top of my head, and tucked my shirt back down over my torso that it was covering me once again. I let him, my breathing still uneven, completely lightheaded. He bent down, and when he came back up he had my pants.

He handed them to me. "We're burnin' daylight."

I nodded mindlessly, and the side of his mouth quirked up in a slight smile that was half surprised, half proud. "Can ya walk?"

I gave him the best glare I could muster while I buttoned up my pants, still a little woozy, and a whole lot confused. "Let's go, then," I said. I didn't know if we were supposed to talk about what just happened, or what it meant, but I wasn't willing to, not yet. Not ruin everything or invite another meltdown on his part.

He nodded at me once, and his face was so unreadable that if I hadn't known better I would have said that nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He didn't give me a chance to try and read him better, retrieving his crossbow before walking away.

**Sigh. A roller coaster, indeed. I realize that there's been smut every chapter...but y'all don't mind, right? I promise, I won't slip into PWP territory. Everything is here for a reason. Anyways. Review! Cause it makes me happy! And look at what happens when I'm happy... ;) **


	9. Chapter 9

**You know what makes me happy? You guys! With your reviews and your follows and your favorites and I adore all of you for it. Is that weird? Oh well ;) this should be a happy place. Well. The AN, anyways. No promises about the story...**

**ObjectiveObserverFromAfar- Again, I'm jealous of your ability to write coherently when tipsy. Is there some secret I'm unaware of? I'm glad you still think Taylor's fabulous, though. She's been having kind of a rough time. Dumb Daryl. As for ending the angst...we shall see. **

**hideher- they're not communicating well. At all. And to be honest, I don't think Daryl's the only one at fault here. Glad you picked up on that. **

**NanamiYatsumaki- yep! baby steps, right? But their physical relationship can only go so far... **

**CreepyDaisy- Nope! Not weird at all! Sorry to hear about your frustrations, but I think it's warranted, considering how much it would suck to try and be with emotionally stunted Daryl. Thanks, and welcome! :)**

**ChooseJoy- Hah! Thanks to you. Baby steps. I think it would be too easy to annoy him when you really wanted to. And kind of priceless. Can you imagine him with a toddler? (and I mean a real toddler, now, not just being sexy and swooping in and saving a kid or dirty talking a baby)**

**ReaJosette- Things are getting kind of complicated, huh? Thank you :)**

**MollyMayhem84- I'm sorry. Could not compute saying no to Daryl. Could not do it. Things aren't really black and white, though. Blah. COMPLICATIONS AND SHIT. Because where's the fun in simplicity, I ask you? Also, I hope you start having a good time with getting hitched and don't fall off of Niagara Falls, please (if you're still going. Maybe? You should. Treat yo self girl. Also, what else is there in Canada? ;))**

**niltiaccampbell- ohmygosh! Thank you! hahaha. I TRY and keep him Daryl, emotionally a ridiculously angsty teenager and all. **

**Speaking of other stories. I beta another one! For ChooseJoy! Haven't you heard of her? Anyways. Wouldn't mention it except for she's being a tease about updating, so you need to go read Home and kick her ass into gear. Love you, dear :) **

**Thanks ohsoverymuch to jouetdedestin, Guest, Maddy-MarieXO and xBlackxRosexRebellionx for their wonderful reviews, as well as to theodora22, niltiaccampbell, , jlreck, juliannemayfair, Lightest'Ink, slspiker0607, supereggbox, moonquirk, and CreepyDaisy for follows/favorites. Y'all all rock. **

**Okay! That's it! Read on...because I think this is the chapter you might've been waiting on :)**

Another shit night, another shit place to hole up in.

This was my fourth straight night taking watch, and it was really starting to catch up to me. I wouldn't have it any other way, though, not when doing this simple task was a good enough reason to keep me away from Daryl. Nothing could happen if we weren't ever in the same space, and even if I was dog tired, I could tell myself it was worth it.

Because it had to be worth it. It had at least kept us from talking since we had gotten back from the hunting trip, though I had gotten the sense that he wanted to talk, felt it in the way he looked at me. Even tonight, he had insisted on taking watch for Glenn, and seemed put out when I had made sure we were on opposite sides of the house. But I didn't care. I wouldn't allow it. I could imagine what he had to say. Not to let it get to my head. That I shouldn't expect anything more from him.

I looked back to the empty front yard and yawned, running my hands over my face, blinking sleepily.

"You too, huh?"

I turned to see Rick coming up the porch stairs from around the back of the house where Daryl was supposed to be.

"What?" I asked as he came to stand next to me, bearing his weight on the railing.

"You're tired," he said, though the comment seemed almost laughable coming from his worn, exhausted face.

"I'm alright," I said, standing up straighter, trying to look alert.

But he didn't buy it. "What is this, your third night? Fourth? Go inside. Get some rest."

"No, I'm really fine," I protested, though halfhearted. I was so completely exhausted. Night after night of watch would do that to a person. Although I didn't want to admit it, I was ready to crash completely.

"You can't do much if you're collapsing. Go on." He gave me a small, empty smile that barely stayed on his lips for more than a second.

I hesitated before nodding. "Thanks," I said, and went inside before pride got the better of me.

God. Sleep had never seemed so inviting. But my options were slim. I went through the list in my head slowly. Couch occupied, at least three bedrooms taken, Rick and Daryl outside… That should mean one bedroom open.

I went up the stairs blearily, my foot catching on one of the stairs, making me trip. I caught myself with my hands, but not in time to stop my knees from hitting the next step with a loud thud. I swore loudly, pushing myself back up, grumpy by the time I made it to the only empty bedroom left. I pushed the door open, rubbing my eyes, and nearly jumped out of my skin when a figure in the bed at the corner of the room sat up, alert at my entrance.

"Shit," I said, finding myself looking at Daryl. "What are you doing here?"

"Tryin' to sleep, 'fore you busted in," he said, gesturing at me, sounding harassed.

"Sorry," I whispered. "I- I thought it was empty. You're supposed to be on watch," I accused lamely.

"So're you."

"Yeah, well. Rick shanghaied me."

He laid back down. "Got us both then. T's out there fer me."

Dammit. Why hadn't I considered that Rick would relieve him, too? I turned to the door, wanting to make myself leave, but couldn't. This was the first time I had been even remotely close to being alone with him, and even though it was exactly what I had been trying to avoid, I found the temptation too hard to resist. "Why aren't you asleep?" I asked, lingering.

"Don't sleep much these days. 'Sides, you bangin' up the stairs would've woke me anyhow," he said, sounding more relaxed, shifting a little so I could catch the teasing look in his eyes.

I glared at him, not in the mood. "I'm tired, alright? I don't sleep much either." I paused. "I'm just gonna sleep in the hall or something, then."

He tilted his head forwards. "Why?"

"Well," I said, holding up my fingers to count people off, "Glenn and Maggie are in the bedroom down the hall. No way am I going in there. Lori's got the master, probably because of the whole baby thing. I think Carl is supposed to be with her, but who the fuck knows what he's doing these days? Hershel and Beth in bedroom number two. Carol on the couch downstairs. And then you're in here. So." I shrugged. "I'll get a pillow from somewhere," I said reluctantly, not at all looking forward to another shitty night of restlessness.

"Don't be stupid, you ain't sleepin' on the floor."

I raised my eyebrows, putting one hand on my hip. "Unless you've got a mattress hidden behind that crossbow-"

"Ya can sleep here," he said, nodding to the open space of bed next to him.

There was a moment of intense silence while I tried to respond. I was thankful it was dark, concealing my blush. "No. That's not a good idea."

"Just sleepin'." He crossed his arms behind his head, still looking at me. "You got a better idea?"

I pursed my lips, pretending to think. "Um, yeah. Pretty much anything else. At all."

He looked annoyed. "Fine, then. Sleep on the damn floor."

It was a challenge, I knew it. But I couldn't tell what the winning decision was. I looked back to the hall, the hardwood floors looking even less inviting than before, and then back to the bed space that was being offered. My exhaustion won out. "Fine," I said haughtily, bending to slip off my shoes. I didn't look at him as I came over to the side of the bed, waiting for him to move, but he didn't. "Care to scoot over, Dixon?"

"Nope," he said coolly, provoking me. I could have just gone to the foot of the bed and gotten on that way, but he was looking at me, daring me, and hell if I would let him win now.

"Fine," I said again, just as nonchalant, and placed a hand on the bed near his chest, swinging my leg over his body. I had meant to just roll right over him, but realized too late the compromising position of being on all fours above him, our faces dangerously close. My hair fell around us, creating a curtain, giving me nowhere else to look but at him. His arms, still behind his head, were tensed, the lines of his muscles defined and all too enticing. It would be so easy to duck down and run my tongue over him, taste him, those arms of pure sex, make them twitch, and I swallowed audibly, my mouth suddenly dry. I could feel the electricity between us, though we weren't even touching, my body practically begging for him, all my senses demanding more. I knew his eyes were on my face, but I kept away from his gaze, knowing it would do me in, keeping locked on his lips, feeling my own part-

But no. I snapped my mouth shut, pushing myself quickly all the way over him, rolling away until my back was against the wall. He didn't stop me, didn't even move or look at me, though I could see his chest rising and falling with breaths that were coming just as fast as my own, his fingers flexing behind his head.

I shut my eyes, closing him out, but it didn't help much. I could still hear him, and fuck, I could feel him there, could easily imagine exactly where his body was in relation to mine. All of a sudden, the bed felt much too small, the centimeters of space between us not nearly enough, and I found myself very much awake.

I knew I needed to leave, but I couldn't make myself do it. I wanted to be close to him, damn it all. Weeks ago, before I had ever even thought of strip target practice, this might not have been such a problem, and I craved that simplicity almost as much as I craved him. I could feel it in my stomach, the need to be with him beyond physical boundaries, and knew I was just screwing myself over more. This was a precarious game I was playing.

I heard him move, the mattress creaking a little, and I closed my eyes tighter, trying to resist the urge to reach out to him.

"Taylor," I heard him say, his voice strained, and I opened my eyes to find his head turned, facing me, the arm closest to me gone from behind his head, outstretched towards me. I knew he would touch me, knew where it would lead, and I wanted it so bad, but I instead turned to my other side so my back was to him.

"Night," I breathed, not at all close to going to sleep. I felt like a livewire, electric, ready to go. I curled in on myself, bringing my knees to my chest, trying to be as small as possible.

The silence was almost devastatingly thick. I could hear my heart beating, hear our every breath, could almost hear the sizzle of the desire between us. And so, when I felt his fingers brush lightly over my arm, trailing down over my shoulder blade, it took everything I had to keep still. I had a long sleeve shirt on, but the material was tight, and I could feel him easily, the way his fingertips grazed over me so softly. He passed his knuckles up my spine, coming to the nape of my neck to weave some of my hair between his fingers, pulling through the strands and letting them fall back on the pillow when he got to the ends. I held my breath, waiting for him to touch me more, but his hand dropped down to the mattress.

I held my hands over my mouth, trying to stifle the sounds of my ragged breaths, ignoring the goosebumps on my skin.

This wasn't good for me, what I was feeling, worse now after his gentleness. Why couldn't he just make up his mind? But I couldn't leave him. Just one last night, I reasoned with myself. I would talk to him tomorrow. End it all.

Maybe if I repeated it enough I would have the strength to do it.

* * *

When I woke up the following morning, he was gone. I laid there, looking at the shadows cast on the wall from the steady rain dripping down the windows. Great. It always seemed to be raining these days. Cold and wet and more distanced from Daryl than ever. I only let myself dwell on it for a second, tracing over my shoulder where he had touched me before pushing myself off the bed. I slipped on my shoes, taking one last look around the room, sighing. I was getting more and more behind Rick's pipe dream of finding something more permanent.

I exited the bedroom at the same time as Glenn and Maggie. We nodded at each other wordlessly before heading down the stairs, already knowing what had to be done, the systematic packing. We had unloaded the cars this time, taking stock of what we had, seeing what we needed to take in terms of clothes, anything to help with the continuous cold, and they would have to be packed up again. It was becoming monotonous, always the same days of survival, but we didn't have the privilege of choices anymore.

I worked with everyone else, the rain wiping away my lethargy still there from not having gotten the sleep I was wanting. At the thought of how I had instead spent the night, I looked to Daryl, who was lifting his bike into the back of the pickup with Rick. I knew I was running out of time, and I loaded one last bag before coming over to him. He was wiping his hands on his jeans, looking at his packed up bike a little reproachfully. I knew he would be feeling the need to ride right now, and not being able to would do nothing to improve his mood or my case.

"Can I talk to you?" I asked, touching his wrist before thinking better of it and dropping my hand.

He looked at me, drops of rain dripping from his hair down his nose, catching in his stubble, blue eyes sticking out against the stormy gray backdrop of sky, and I had to fight to keep my face neutral. Did he have to look like fucking poetry?

"Fine," he said, and followed me a couple feet away, near the Hyundai, still in sight, the rain blocking any listening ears.

I took a breath, all too aware of the way my shirt was clinging to my skin. My nerves had the words coming out in a rush. "We need to stay away from each other."

He blinked at me. "What the hell are you sayin'?"

"Last night can't happen again." I cleared my throat, forcing myself to continue. I couldn't possibly be faltering this fast, not when, at the of the night, nothing had really happened. "We need to...just...stay away."

He scoffed, and I looked back up to his eyes. "Just how the hell do you 'xpect to manage that?" He leaned in closer. "Dunno if you've noticed, girl, but we've got close quarters now. Ain't no such thing as stayin' away."

I was irritated by his response, as if I wasn't constantly aware of how close we were always forced to be. "You think I haven't fucking noticed that?"

"You ain't acting like it."

I had been so determined not to let him get to me, but I was failing fast. "What I'm acting like is tired. Tired of the crap you keep pulling. And I'm done with it. So fucking done." I ran my hands through my hair roughly, trying to calm myself down. "This whole thing has been so fucked up, and it's killing me, Daryl. So I just need us to keep some space." This confrontation had gotten much more melodramatic than I intended. I turned around, needing to leave, knowing nothing good would come from me staying.

"'Ey!" he called out, angry. "Don't walk away!"

I didn't stop, throwing my words over my shoulder. "Nothing more to say, Daryl."

"This is some bullshit."

Those words stopped me in my tracks. I took a breath, bowing my head forward, trying to move again, but I couldn't help it. I turned around, marching back to him, expecting him to back down, but he stood his ground. "What's bullshit, exactly? Besides pretty much every single fucking thing you've pulled with me?"

Instead of moving away, he took a step closer to me, menacing. "I wasn't the one who kept pushin' this. Hell, I ain't even the one who fuckin' started. That was your idea," he said, pointing at me.

I was a little thrown off by the truth of what he was saying, and I scrambled for a response. "Fine," I acknowledged, frowning. "I initiated this. But it wasn't me who fucking flipped out every time we did anything. You wouldn't even talk to me. You just shut me out."

"Right," he sneered, "'cause you've been doin' so much talkin'."

"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You didn't do jackshit for talkin'. Just kept pullin' goddamn stunts."

I crossed my arms defensively. "What stunts?" I asked, though I already knew.

"What do you call stealin' my bike and goin' off by yourself, just beggin' for shit to happen to ya?"

"Do you not remember why that happened? You took me out in the middle of nowhere, had sex with me, and then acted like you were doing me a favor," I said, louder than I meant to. I looked around, checking myself, making sure we hadn't gotten any unwanted attention, but the everyone was still going about their business. I looked back to him and spoke more quietly. "Besides, what about you? You fucking moved your tent a mile away just to avoid talking to me!"

"You don't wanna talk. When you lost your damn mind at the house, I asked what the hell was wrong with ya. Went from fuckin' yelling to bein' on your knees in front of me!"

I cringed a little at the crudeness, but we were both reaching a breaking point that I couldn't stop careening towards. "That was because- look, I saw Glenn and Maggie-"

"There ya go again, bringing them into it, like it fuckin' matters. I don't give two shits 'bout what they're doin'."

"You don't give two shits about me, either," I said, the words coming out before I could think about them.

He stared at me, then shook his head. "You're a right piece of work, you know that?" He waved me off when I started to respond. "Just hold your damn tongue for a second, Jesus." He turned around, putting the last bag into the trunk before slamming it shut, then looked at me, seeming to make up his mind. "Alright, fine. You wanna talk? Let's talk, then. You don't know what the hell you're doin'. Ya don't want me to act different, but ya don't want me to be the same, neither. Here ya are, whinin' 'bout me, but I ain't the one dancin' around, not sayin' shit, refusin' to do what needs to be done just outta spite, and I ain't the one threatenin' to walk away. That's all on you," he said, his accent thick.

I wanted to argue, to deny, but I couldn't, because he was right. My mouth opened and closed, and he tilted his head back, looking down at me, seemingly gratified by my lack of ability to respond. I was stuck, seeing our situation grow more complicated before my eyes, dozens more shades of grey that I hadn't considered before. I had thought I was being so fucking transparent, but now I wasn't sure.

"So how 'bout you just think on that next time you wanna come cryin' to me."

I was so concentrated on him and what he was saying that I hadn't even noticed that everyone else was finished with their jobs. It took the car doors slamming for me to break from my reverie, and I looked around to see the cars loaded with both our supplies and our people.

A slight, embarrassed blush crept up my cheeks. We were holding everyone up.

"You two coming?" T-Dog asked from the driver's seat of the truck.

"Yeah," I said, giving Daryl another hard look. "Wait," I said more quietly, checking off the cars and people, coming to a quick realization. "The cars are full."

And it was true. I had been so fucking caught up in everything that we had both somehow missed the fact that putting away Daryl's bike would mean one more person in the cars. Now I could see that I had backed myself into a fucking corner, the only two seats left in the truck next to T, the rest of the cars already ready to go.

"So much for 'stayin' away,'" Daryl said.

I cursed viciously to myself. Damn him for distracting me. I was fucked, and I knew it, but I wouldn't let him know it. I walked past Daryl, ignoring the raised eyebrows look he gave me, and slid into the middle of the truck bench, crossing my legs, staring stonily at my knees. He came in next to me, his jean clad thigh brushing against me, and I shivered.

I had at least tried, had at least fulfilled that promise to myself. Problem was, now I wasn't even sure if I was in the right anymore.

**Well, shit. Complications abound. Maybe things aren't so black and white after all? You tell me. In a review. See you next week, lovers ;) **


	10. Chapter 10

**Phew! I'm still on time, right? I promised Friday/Saturday uploads and I believe I'm within my limit. Reason this is late is because this chapter was kicking me every single step of the way. But it's ready! **

**THANK YOU for the reviews and a hell of a lot of followers/favorites. Forever grateful because it's awesome. But! Where did you reviewers go last chapter? You should drop in! Say hello! Or else I might get a teensy bit frustrated. And, well, who knows who I might take my frustration out on when writing...? ;) Fair warning! **

**One quick thing before we delve in- PrincessPiPi! Hello! To answer your question, I have no plans right now for another story. Taylor and Daryl are hard enough to keep up with as it is! If you're thinking of a one shot, feel free to share. I tend to be kind of (read: very) picky, though. **

**Okay. That's it! **

It took an hour for the rain to subside, an hour full of bumped thighs and arms and an awkwardness so thick that T-Dog must have been able to feel it. As soon as the downpour had turned into a sprinkle, Daryl signaled out the window, alerting the others of our stop.

"You two gonna ride together?" T-Dog asked as Daryl slid out of the seat.

"No," we both said forcefully at the same time. I didn't look at Daryl as I repeated, somewhat more normally, "No, we're not." T-Dog raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything more, for which I was grateful.

It wasn't until we were back on the road again, Daryl riding behind us, that I tried to talk, an attempt to alleviate the concern that T-Dog had noticed our obvious discomfort.

"Did Rick say if he had a goal this time? Or are we just wandering?" I asked, hoping I had missed some kind of plan when Daryl and I were having our argument.

"Yeah, actually. Said something about a storage facility that Glenn noticed on a run few months back. With all the garages and stuff?" He shrugged, and said, a little too slyly, "Be good to get some alone time for people." He had his elbow on the armrest, covering his mouth with his hand. When he dropped it, I could see he was smiling, a rather rare occurrence for anyone these days.

"What?" I asked, uncomfortable.

He looked at me quickly with his eyebrows raised knowingly before refocusing on the road. "You know y'all are screwed, right?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked, too hurried.

"You and Dixon."

I looked down, recrossing my legs nervously. "What about him?"

"You two've gotta get your shit together."

I was trying to keep from looking too surprised, going with a neutral, careful response. "Our shit's about as together as anyone's."

He laughed low. "Yeah, but I don't think anyone's been doing the same...extracurriculars as you two." He laughed harder at the look of appalled horror on my face. He put his hands up defensively for a moment, and I bent over, putting my head between my knees.

"How did you know?" I moaned, rubbing my temples.

His only answer was another chuckle, and it hit me like a sucker punch.

I sat back up, though keeping my hands on my head. "It's nobody's business," I said, but it came off more bitterly than I meant it to. "I'm sorry, I just-"

"You keep to yourself, I got it," he said, leaning his head back against the seat, giving me another look from the corner of his eyes, still smiling slightly. "No harm in it, though," he said, shrugging.

I was seriously not okay with this discussion. This was why I didn't want people knowing, questioning. He was already beginning to see me differently. "Of course there's harm in it," I said shortly, hoping to deter him.

"Who knows how long you've got, how long any of us got? Ain't a lot of sense in holding back these days."

I didn't answer, though I was listening. Getting past the realization that we weren't as discreet as I thought, this was the first time I had ever had someone outside of Daryl to talk to about what was happening. Even though this had been exactly what I had wanted to avoid, I was surprised to find myself wanting to talk. I looked at T-Dog again, trying to muster up the nerve. When was the last time I had actually had a real conversation with him, with anyone?

I took a deep breath. "I don't think he's…capable," I said quietly, picking at the extra skin around my too long fingernails.

I saw his head turn from the road to me and then back, as if trying to make sure I had spoken. I blushed, almost wanting to take the words back, hoping he would just leave it alone, but then he began to respond. "I'd've been the first to call Dixon out for being a jackass at the start of all this, but he's done alright by me. Flatout saved my ass one time," he said, absentmindedly rubbing his forearm where the scar was still visible. "You spend more time with him than any of us, though."

I nodded, but didn't say anything. I did end up being with Daryl more than the others, but that didn't really feel like an advantage at this point.

T-Dog kept on talking, not noticing my lack of an answer. "I will say, though, that night you got stabbed? Last time I saw him that on edge was when we went back to Atlanta for his brother."

I still didn't reply, though I wanted to. This had gone deep enough. I shouldn't have even indulged myself in the first place.

T-dog took the cue of my silence this time and didn't say anything more, leaving me to mull over his words. On edge. That could mean anything. I thought back to that night, touching my side where I would still get a twinge if I pushed or stretched myself too far. Daryl had come back for me, or rather, his bike, and he had taken me home, that much was true. But beyond that? I hadn't even really seen him until the next day, and that had been when he was there to question me. He hadn't even been there, where I needed him, when I was getting patched up, just stayed on the outskirts. No. Whatever edge T was talking about, Daryl hadn't gotten there because of me.

But even if he was off base with the events of that night, he was at least right about one thing: I didn't know how much time we had left. The idea of spending it like this, in some fucking Daryl limbo, was torture.

I looked in the side rearview mirror, shifting so that I could get the image of Daryl on his bike riding behind us. He had made his points, too. Neither one of us had been fair to the other. But I wasn't going to be the reason why this pattern kept up between us, not anymore.

* * *

The bolt cutters had been enough to deal with the locks on the garages.

A storage place. It wasn't a half bad idea, Daryl thought. Steel doors. Shelter. Space for everyone. Good location, visibility. Not the most comfortable of places, but he doubted that was high on people's priorities anymore. Sure as shit wasn't on his.

They had spent the afternoon opening up a few of the garages and clearing them out, mostly furniture and junk, nothing usable. But it was getting darker out now, and colder, the daylight wasted by finding this place.

He looked around, his eyes naturally finding Taylor, who was helping Maggie carry some fancy table. She hadn't talked to him since they had gotten here, but she kept throwing him these looks and he knew something was coming.

He turned away from her, looking for Rick. Seeing him a few units over, he started to move towards him until a hand grabbed his arm, instantly recognizable. Taylor. He was getting too fucking used to that touch. He didn't like the way her skin felt on his. Soft. And fucking distracting as shit. He yanked his arm away, not needing to feel that confusion anymore, trying to ignore the itch of guilt. Why couldn't she keep her damn hands to herself?

She looked at him, hurt in her eyes, but he just shook his head and walked away. He tried not to think about it, turning his back on her like that and knowing that his actions held so much power over her emotions. She'd just have to deal with it. He would hear about it later, he was sure, but for now they had shit to get done.

He continued on to Rick, giving him a single nod as he approached. Rick crossed his arms, leaning against the truck, scanning over the progress people were making. "This is closer," he said, distant.

Daryl followed his lead, leaning with his shoulder, watching. "This is good," he corrected.

Rick nodded at him gratefully. "Listen, we're a little tight on space, and I don't think they're up for clearing out another garage. You don't mind sharing with Taylor, do you?"

Daryl looked down, kicking at the ground, resisting the urge to laugh. This was exactly what he fucking needed, to be locked in a room with that woman overnight. Taylor would love it. But he wasn't about to be more of a problem. "Naw, we'll deal with it."

"Appreciate it," Rick said, standing up straighter. Others had already started to go in, tired and cold. Lori was standing at the entrance of one, hands on her rounded stomach, watching them. Rick sighed. "I'm gonna head on. We'll deal with provisions in the morning." He clasped Daryl on the shoulder and walked away.

Daryl gave a sigh of his own, kicking off the truck, heading towards the last unoccupied garage. He passed Taylor on the way, who had been making her way towards him.

"Where are you going?" she asked, following him, a single blanket and gas lamp in her arms.

"We're roomin' together," he answered, not stopping to see her reaction. He went to the garage, waiting at the door for her to walk sullenly inside, letting the rolling door fall behind him. It didn't shut all the way, hovering just inches from the concrete, and he didn't bother to fix it.

When he turned around, Taylor had already settled, sitting with her legs crossed on the left wall, the lamp in the middle of the room.

She looked at him, watching as he sat across from her, sliding down wall until he was sitting. He had expected her to talk his ear off as soon as the door had shut, but she was quiet now, almost nervous. They sat in silence for awhile while he waited for her storm to hit.

He propped his head against the wall, the concrete unforgiving, but he didn't care, had slept in worse places. He took the moment to look at Taylor, huddled opposite of him, her eyes fixed on nothing, obviously thinking. The dim flicker from the gaslamp wasn't exactly letting him see a whole lot, but he still caught the way she was hugging herself, her whole body shaking with suppressed shivers even underneath the blanket. It bothered him more than it should have.

"You're freezin' your ass off," he said, watching her carefully.

She scoffed, unimpressed with his observation, but didn't say anything more, still distracted.

"Come over here."

That got her attention. She looked at him for just a second before looking back at the ground, hugging her blanket tighter around herself. "No."

He had expected it, but that didn't stop it from being damn annoying. "You're bein' stubborn again. Just come here. Body heat. Too damn cold to be fightin' bout it."

Her nose scrunched up. "I can't think of anything more fucking cliche than needing to share body heat." But he could see she was considering it. Daryl liked this, watching the conflict play out clearly on her face, seeing her realize he was right. She put up a big sigh, muttering to herself as she gathered up her blanket and walked the short distance over to him. He kept his face stern, pushing away the eager feeling in his gut, something that was happening too often lately. It was that same thing that had made him touch her that night she had slept next to him. He wasn't able to control it then, and where had that fucking gotten him?

Taylor settled in next to him, throwing the blanket over both of their bodies. She scooted in closer so that they were touching, shoulders, arms, hips, thighs. He felt his hands clench into fists, almost wanting to tell her to go back, her proximity already a problem.

"T-Dog knows about us," she said suddenly. He looked sharply at her, but she was still staring straight ahead, surprisingly calm. He braced himself internally. This must've been what she was trying so hard to get his attention for earlier, which was fucking irritating. He wasn't even sure why she cared. It wasn't like people didn't have problems of their own to be thinking about.

"Reckon Rick does, too," Daryl said, figuring she might as well know.

She barked out a laugh. "Guess we're not as discreet as I thought."

"If ya call starin' at me all the time discreet." He said it casually, trying to judge her response, see if he could get her off this track, but she only pressed her lips together. He nodded once, accepting, leaning his head back again to the wall, closing his eyes. He could feel how antsy she was, her fingers tapping away on her knees. He wanted to reach out, calm her down like he knew he could, and he felt his fists tighten.

"What happened that night?"

The question came out of left field. He opened his eyes a crack to see her looking at him intently, focused. "Gotta be more specific than that."

"The night when you brought me back from the run where I got stabbed."

His eyes opened all the way, his jaw setting, fingers flexing out on his thighs. He had been thinking she was gonna want to talk about more secrets she wanted to keep, not this. He wasn't ready for the rush of memories from that goddamn night, his senses assaulted, and now he was pissed. "Why?" he demanded harshly.

But she didn't show any signs of backing off. "Because I need to know what you felt."

Feelings. She wanted him to sit down and discuss his fucking feelings. He sighed, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. He supposed he had brought this on himself, what with all the talk about the shit she was pulling, but this isn't what he had wanted, talking about things that didn't matter none. Not anymore.

"That night is done. Ain't a point in dwelling on it now."

She nodded her head, and he felt relieved at first, but then she kept going, nodding away, and he looked down at her in time to see the look on her face before she turned away, biting her lip, her eyes watering.

He was alarmed, unsure of what to do, just like he always was when this happened. But this time, he was stuck, not just in the same room but under the same damn blanket, and he felt compelled to say something. "Hell, I'm sorry, alright?" Felt like she was always crying these days. It'd never been his job to fucking watch out for her feelings, never had to watch the shit he was saying, and now it felt like there was a fifty/fifty shot she would bust up in tears every time he spoke. It was doing a number on him. She was still looking away, trying to hide her emotions and doing a damned sorry job of it. He could read her so easy, an open book with pictures on every page, but that didn't mean he knew what to do about what he saw.

"It's okay," she whispered. "I'm sorry. This isn't fair to you."

What wasn't fair? Asking these questions? Crying when he couldn't do anything about it? But he didn't know, and it didn't look like she was about to explain. He wished she would, dammit. He had no clue what she fucking wanted from him.

Daryl stared at the wall, listening to the way her breaths were hitching. He wasn't the person to be talking to. He was nobody's damn therapist. He only ever made shit worse. But she was still here, right fucking under his skin in ways he didn't understand, or, hell, even like. Would've made his life a hell of a lot easier if he could just blow her off.

He looked back down to her, and even though her face was tight, her nose a little red from both the cold and the crying, she was still pretty. Not in the obvious ways. Things he'd learned from countless trips where they'd had nothing but each other. A mess of brown hair, and eyes a few shades darker that had always been her tell, his way of knowing what she was thinking before he'd even known her.

She must have felt him looking at her, because she turned to him, her lips setting in a frown, resolutely trying to prove that she was fine. He should've let her, let her go and stew and hate him, but he couldn't help himself. He brought his hand out from underneath the blanket, reaching slowly until his hand was on her face, waiting for her to push him away, but she didn't. He brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, wet from the tears she hadn't been able to hold, and it made him angry, at himself and her for making him this way. Her attention was rapt, now, her eyes on his face.

"Just listen, alright? Cause I ain't sayin' this twice. But I'm gettin' real sick and tired of you tryin' to tell me I don't care."

She nodded quickly once, an agreement, thankfully keeping quiet so he wouldn't have to shush her again. He almost wished she would try and argue, though. It was easier for him if he could keep hold of that frustration. Less chance of pussying out.

"That day ya decided to storm off, by your damn self, in a fuckin' mood bad enough that you were distracted, even though you fuckin' knew better? You weren't comin' back from that." He swallowed, remembering. Denial. Rage. And something else, worse. "Ain't a lot of times I've been scared. But that was one of 'em." She opened her mouth, starting to respond, but he grabbed her chin, a little too roughly, shaking his head. "No. I ain't finished. Not even a week later, ya went back to acting like nothin' happened, like ya hadn't almost gotten yourself killed because you were too busy bein' pissy over what we were doin' to focus. Ain't exactly keen on that happening again." He released her face, leaning back. "So I don't wanna hear anymore bullshit 'bout how difficult I'm makin' this."

He had barely even gotten the sentence out before Taylor nearly lunged at him, catching him completely off guard, one hand on the back of his neck, the other on his shoulder, using the leverage to pull herself over him so she was straddling his lap. She was looking down at him, any hints of her earlier distress gone, her face filled with a whole different kind of need. He had no idea how she was able to change like that, like flicking a switch. It wouldn't be such a damn problem if she didn't affect him, too, a drug stronger than his nicotine. She inched closer, her legs squeezing, her chest getting closer to his face, her grip on his hair pulling so that his head was tilted up, and he could feel himself getting hard already. There were layers of clothes and blankets between them, for Christ's sake. He wasn't a fucking teenager. When had he become a slave to this girl?

But then she had ducked down, kissing him, hard, needful, and he didn't give a shit anymore about the why of it. He wrapped his hands around her hips, fingers grasping, harsh, the way he knew she liked him to be, and he fucking loved the way his hands fit on her. It turned him on, knowing she wanted him that bad, that she wasn't some fucking chinadoll that he had to worry about breaking.

Her hands pulled at his hair hard enough to force him back, but he kept his mouth on hers, tasting her tongue with his own. She pushed her hips against him, straddling him closer, but with the extra fabric between them, it wasn't enough. He dug tighter into her hips and pulled her down, grinding her against him, making her feel how fucking hard she was making him, what she was doing to him. At the contact, she broke away from his mouth, the breath of her whimper brushing over his lips. He moved her against him again, wanting to hear that sound knowing it was for him. Her hands raked down his neck, her hips taking up his rhythm, her temple pressed against his cheek.

But being away from her face, her searching lips, was giving him a second to breathe. Her hands clutched onto his shoulder, fingertips slipping under his shirt, nails cutting into his skin and giving him even more clarity.

They couldn't be doing this. He wouldn't. He had fucking played along with this game of hers before only to have everything be turned into a bigger mess of things. He wouldn't be making that mistake again.

She pressed her lips into the side of his neck, her motions fucking merciless, making it damn near impossible to even try and get this to stop.

"Do you still have those condoms? Because," she kissed behind his ear, rolling her hips particularly hard, making him growl, "I plan on using them," she finished, kissing him again, and if sin had a voice, that was fucking it. He couldn't handle it when she said shit like that.

"No," he groaned, voice pathetic.

"No, you don't have them?" she asked, back in front of him, her hips stilling. She pouted, making dozens more dirty thoughts cross his mind, his hands still on her hips, of half a mind to flip them both over and take her right there, principle be damned. "We can make do," she said, and tried to resume her rhythm, but his hands stopped her, reluctantly. He already knew his body was gonna be punishing him for this for the rest of the night.

It took everything he had. "No, we ain't doin' this."

She immediately stopped all movement, her hands coming off his shoulders like he'd burned her. Gone was the confidence, replaced with clear rejection, all hurt in her eyes. He'd have to teach her a thing or two about not letting every emotion be a dead giveaway just from her face.

She leaned back. "I thought-"

He took his hands from her hips, placing them by his sides, looking for the cold concrete to ground him further. "Ya thought things were gonna be perfect now?" he said, his frustration with the situation preventing him from stopping the mocking tone of his voice. He watched her face fall, but he continued anyways. "Thought we'd ride off into the sunset together?"

She pushed off of him wordlessly, scooting back on her ass so she was still facing him but no longer within reach. She brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs, a dead expression on her face. He had expected her to fight him. This was worse.

"It ain't worth it," he said, and she gave him a deadly look, making him quick to expand. "Shit like this, you gettin' hurt, me bein'..." A hell of a lot of words to finish that sentence. Distracted. Off his game. Weak. "It ain't good."

She got a hand on the blanket, pulling it with her as she moved further back, all the way to the wall. She wrapped it around herself, pulling it tight before turning on her side, her back to him, not once even looking at him.

He bent over, holding up his head with his hand, resisting the urge to punch something. Why didn't she get it? Was it so damned hard to understand?

He thudded his head back against the wall, welcoming the pain, knowing that there wouldn't be any sleep for him tonight.

**Damn. Is he right? Wrong? Let me know! In a review! And I will see you next week! :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hah! Wow! There's a hell of a lot of conflicting opinions in the reviews, and I gotta say, I'm completely loving it. Just so we're clear- I'm not trying to write this where someone is obviously right or obviously wrong. There are two sides to every story, and real life is always complicated. So if you don't know how to feel...good! Because it's not supposed to be easy ;)**

**And yay! Reviewers came back! **

**niltiacampbell- thank you! It's not really a FUN thought, I admit, that they shouldn't be together...I guess we'll see if they can work something out ;)**

**Rea Josette- I'm glad you see Daryl's side! That was the point!**

**Maddy-MarieXO- oh no! I'm sorry to hear that. Can you not see his side? Even just a little bit? I'm glad you at least like Taylor. Maybe Daryl can redeem himself, hm? Maybe? Give it time. **

**jouetdedestin- she's pretty confusing, I'll give you that, especially through Daryl's eyes. **

**NanamiYatsumaki- they DO both have their points. And they're both valid. Damn complications. **

**ChooseJoy- bahaha. Unconventional. Twisted. Sounds like Daryl to me! Thanks for the backup, dear :)**

**ObjectiveObserverFromAfar- Hah, sorry for the cold water. Couldn't let 'em go there, not yet ;) And seriously. They need to work something out. (and I'm on time again! Woo!)**

**OnTheWildSide- welcome to the angsty party! Thank you very much for the review, and I'm eager to see what you think of this one now that you're all caught up. **

**Thanks also to hideher, ReadingInTheDark, Ashley (maybe they'll figure it out soon?), and xBlackxRosexRebellion for their reviews, as well, because it's super fucking great. Same to all the new followers and favorites. That being said...again! come out! review! I'm looking at you, fellow (rather quiet) writers. Again, I don't bite...but Daryl might.**

**Congratulations to a MRS MollyMayhem84 for getting hitched and not killing herself in the process :) **

**Er. Heads up. Some shit's about to go down. Brace yourselves, and read on.**

I was planning on leaving in the morning.

I had put thought into it, tried to see another way, but in the end, it wasn't hard, not really. It seemed the obvious choice, the only one I felt I had left.

It only took a week to come to this conclusion, a week of just waiting and wanting Daryl to even look at me, acknowledge me in some way, give some hint as to whether or not he was suffering as much as I was. We were still sleeping in the same garage, all because of my masochistic and naive notion that if he had no way of avoiding me, he would be forced to address the obvious problem.

But I had been wrong, and instead spent days with him plaguing my every thought. I kept replaying the conversation in my head. Constantly. I was going through the day to day motions, trying to pretend everything was all fine, but in the back of my mind, I was hearing his words, feeling his touch, and it fucking hurt. For all of two minutes, I had actually believed things were going to get better. His actions finally made sense.

But then it was over, and he had cut himself off from me, and as a result, I had cut myself off from everyone else.

It was deadening. I couldn't do it anymore. I didn't know if he had actually thought that withdrawing himself completely from me was the answer, if he really was under the impression that this was a clean break. If he did, he was wrong. If anything, he was making the same problem of distractions he had talked to me about infinitely worse, and if something was going to the death of me, it was this. If anything, he was making the distractions worse, not better. Forget the walkers, it was this that was going to be the death of me.

I was on watch until dawn when Maggie would come to switch with me. After that, I was gone. No goodbyes. I didn't have it in me. I had packed my things the night before, leaving my pack strategically outside me and Daryl's door so that I could grab it quickly and go. I knew I had a very limited time frame to work with. I needed to be far out when they noticed I was gone. I was sure Daryl would figure it out quickly, and I wanted to be nowhere near here, though I wasn't even sure what kind of reaction he would have. It hurt to think that he might agree, but I wasn't going to find out.

It was nerve wracking, and I couldn't deny that I was scared. I could be dead tomorrow. Conditions weren't exactly ideal, but I had been on my own before, had learned at a young age how to take care of myself, and I had to believe that I could last. Because I knew I couldn't last here, not like this.

I heard footsteps behind me, and I frowned, looking up at the sky. It wasn't dawn yet. I should have another solid hour before Maggie came. I turned around to find her, ask if something was up, but it was Daryl's footsteps I had heard, stalking towards me.

He knew. I could see it instantly on his face.

He reached me in a matter of seconds, grabbing onto my elbow, surprising me. He leaned in close, still holding me, and I actually felt a flutter of fear in the pit of my stomach. "You got something you wanna tell me?"

I took a deep breath, unsure of what I was going to say, but he didn't even give me a chance to speak before he was moving and pulling me with him. He allowed me to jerk my arm away from him, but checked behind him to make sure I was following. And I was, my feet seeming to move mindlessly on their own. We didn't stop until we were back in our garage, the door closed behind us, and I immediately noticed my bag on the floor. I gulped, turning around to find that he had placed himself between me and the door, his arm reached out in front of me, as if I was going to make a run for it.

"Woke up to see your shit gone," he said, looking at me, tilting his head.

"I'm not allowed to pack my things?" I asked, my voice wavering. I was not prepared for this, had no idea what direction this was going besides angry.

But he didn't even begin to buy into my excuse. "I didn't ask ya to leave," he said, his arm still blocking my exit.

I sighed, giving in. "No. You didn't. But you're making it impossible for me to stay."

He banged his fist against the garage door, the resulting clang made even louder by the echo that bounced around the room. I flinched, keeping my eyes trained at his chest, not daring to look at his face.

When he spoke, it was carefully controlled. "Leavin' is suicide."

I swallowed, making quick eye contact. As if I needed reminding of the risk. "I can take care of myself." My gaze fell again, my voice dropping. "I don't know what else to do."

He pushed off the wall angrily, and I flinched again as he passed me, pacing away before coming back. "You're smarter than this. Ya gotta be smarter than this. Ya ain't thinking it through."

That pissed me off. "What am I supposed to do, Daryl? You're the one who said it: this is a distraction. You won't even really fucking look at me anymore. Where the hell does that leave me?"

He slid further in front of me so that he was now blocking me with his body. He crossed his arms, looking even more intimidating. "You don't do this, Taylor! That tormented stuff was for Shane's dumb ass. Not for you. Knock it the fuck off. Ya lost yer damn mind."

I gritted my teeth. "That's not for you to decide. I'm not worth it, remember?"

"Jesus, you're gonna play it that way? That ain't what I said and ya know it. Don't twist my words."

"Then what were you expecting? When you were kind enough to tell me that I was at least worth a distraction, but not worth more? What did you fucking want?"

He dropped his arms from their stance, running a hand over his face. "I didn't fuckin' ask ya to leave," he repeated, his voice gruffer this time.

Every time he spoke, I got more frustrated. This conversation wasn't even supposed to have happened, exactly what I had been hoping to avoid. "What are you going to do to stop me? It's my decision. I can go if I want."

"Think that's how it works? Ya make the worst damn mistake and then think you can just do as ya damn well please?" he asked, leaning down, condescending.

I nearly wanted to push him, for doing this, for even stopping me in the first place. "Let me go, Daryl," I said, and though my voice was quiet I felt close to exploding.

But either he didn't notice or he didn't care. "No."

I groaned, pushing my hair out of my face. "'No' isn't a fucking argument."

"That's 'cause this ain't up for debate. I'll stand here all damn day. Just try and test me."

He was pushing me too hard, and I felt what little patience I had left evaporating. "Move," I ordered, trying to look threatening, coming in closer to him.

But he stood his ground. I turned around, kicking at my bag on the floor, making it slide a few inches. Why couldn't he just let me go? Why was he doing this now? Couldn't he get that this was best? I pressed the heel of my palms to my eyes, trying to contain myself. I was feeling trapped, and the longer I stood here, the closer to violent I felt.

I turned back to him, getting close, hoping that being this near to him would at least get him to retreat a little. But, instead of affecting him, I felt his proximity overwhelming me. He wasn't even really asking my to stay, not the way I would need him to, and I tried to hold onto that thought. But he was still here, finally, and that feeling was stronger. Being around him, talking, arguing, touching after days of him ignoring me was proving too much, and very suddenly, I had lost complete control of the situation.

I felt my breathing change as I looked up at him, his stupid gorgeous face, and I swayed forward, wanting to be closer, needing it. My anger was very quickly changing to something else, and I fought to keep it under control, the tension between us gaining a sexual edge that I couldn't ignore. He saw the change in my face quickly, and even though he should have pushed me away, he instead hooked his fingers around my belt loops, pulling me more solidly to him.

That was all I could handle. Before I could even think of stopping myself, I had leaned to the tips of my toes to kiss him, throwing my arms around the back of his neck and pushing him so that his body was shoved against the garage door. He was just as hard on me, his rough hands unforgiving on the skin above my jeans, his tongue almost forced on mine. I loved the taste of him, wanted to drink him in as his hands went up my shirt to the small of my back.

But then I remembered, and I pushed off his chest, stumbling backwards.

"No, no, no," I moaned, crossing my arms over my head, trying to come back down to earth. I faced him again, but he was still standing in the same spot, though breathing hard, his expression pissed. My temper had been tested enough, and the combination of my complete lapse in judgment and just his general existence compounded with the fact that I was still fucking aching for him was making me irrational.

I stalked back to him. "Move," I demanded again, but he obstinately shook his head.

I struggled to hold onto my anger, wanting it to replace the desire I was still feeling from our kiss. I needed to get out of here, away from this damning fight. I raised my hand to his arm, about to make a desperate and hopeless attempt to physically move him, hoping to get him off guard, but he caught my wrist easily in his hand, gripping it tight. He was looking down at me, fucking predatory, making me want him even more, and I began to lose the distinction between what was rage and what was devastating attraction. I refocused, trying to tug away uselessly, but he had me good. I attempted again with my other arm, this time pushing at his chest, but somewhat weaker, and he got that wrist just as easily as the first, and I was stuck exactly where I couldn't deny I wanted to be.

I didn't even have time to move before he was using his hold to spin us around, changing places so that this time it was my body slamming against the door, the bang ringing in my ears, his hips pinning me in place, his face inches away from mine. He brought my wrists above my head, transferring both to one hand, dropping his other hand back to my chin, keeping my face to his. I was completely stuck, no more fighting, no way of leaving, though that was fast becoming the last thing on my mind.

This, his touch, was fucking intoxicating, and I couldn't help my body's response to him, even though just an hour ago I had been dead set on leaving this behind. His hand on my chin turned my head to the side, exposing my neck. He ducked down to me, his lips finding my jaw, his hard breaths tickling the hair behind my ear.

"You're not goin' anywhere," he said, no room for question, pressing his hips firmly against me, constricting. I felt as though I was running out of air, waiting for him to actually touch me, kiss me, something real. His lips passed over my pulse point, slowly, the hair on his chin rubbing against my neck before he turned my face back to him to kiss me again. My hands above my head fought against his grip, wanting to hold him, and he released me, putting his hand on my hip instead. I wrapped my arms around him, kissing him back eagerly as he released my chin, moving both his hands to my waist to keep me to him. This wasn't gentle, or sweet, or loving, but desperate, hard, frustrated. I bit his lip, my hands clawing at his back underneath his shirt, making him hold tighter to my waist, his hands sliding to my rib cage.

I couldn't take it, needing more. It had been too long since I had last had him like this, mine, completely and undeniably together. I pushed his back on his chest, moving with him to the center of the room. I yanked his shirt open, tugging it down from his shoulders, my nails scratching up his arms to his neck, pulling him back down to me as his hands pulled my shirt up and over my breasts. I raised my arms so he could jerk it up and off of me, dropping it on the ground. We were both rushing, our hands everywhere, his lips touching everything, my neck, my collarbone, any part of my breasts he could reach.

He moved his hands to just under my ass, his hands gripping my thighs before he suddenly lifted me, hitching my legs around him. I ran my hands over the arms holding me up, strong, fucking sexy, and I smiled before biting lightly into his shoulder, my hand tangling in his hair, pulling it. I had missed how it felt to have him hold me.

I didn't have time to think about how good it felt as he sank slowly to the floor, holding me tight the whole time as he kneeled. He didn't stop, bending forward until my back was to the cold ground and he was above me, one hand still behind my back while the other held him off me, his body still between my legs.

He didn't waste any time, pressing himself against me and reconnecting our mouths in another demanding kiss. I parted my lips as my back arched, desperate to feel more of him, and I removed my arms from around him to reach behind me and unclasp my bra. He immediately ripped it from me, his hands going to my jeans, impatiently unbuttoning them. I took my legs from around him, and he leaned back so I could put them together in front of him, lifting my hips so he could tug the jeans from my legs, taking my panties with them.

As soon as they were off, I moved to replace my legs around his body, crossing my ankles behind him. He leaned back down to me, putting his forearm on the ground near my head to hold him up as his mouth took to my breasts. His other hand snaked between my legs, searching. He barely even touched me, just ran his knuckles over my clit, but I jumped at the contact, my legs squeezing him.

"Goddammit, Taylor," he grunted when he felt how wet I was, his fingers sliding easily over me as his teeth grazed my nipple, making me jump and whimper again. His hand left me to go to his jeans, bracing himself over me as he kicked off his pants and boxers.

The anticipation was tangible, my breathing ragged, every effort of my lungs tainted with an almost pathetic whine that I couldn't stop. I threw my arm around the back of his shoulder and pulled myself up to him so that we were closer, my other arm outstretched behind me. His hand went to my hip, holding me still, and we both watched as he pressed forward, pushing into me, filling me completely, shuddering when he could go no further. I sighed. It felt so right, so good, and I wondered in the back of my mind why I had been fighting so hard against this when this was the best I had felt in days, now exactly where we both so obviously belonged.

But then he thrusted into me again, and all other thoughts were wiped from my mind. His breaths were hot and fast on my neck as he began moving in earnest, setting a fast, needy rhythm that I loved. My hair was swaying against my back, my breasts moving with his every thrust, his toned arms flexing as he worked us both over, his whole body taut.

He pressed harder into me, hitting all the right places, and I pressed my lips into his shoulder, muffling the sounds of my approval.

"Nuh uh," he said, his voice hoarse, and the hand near my head suddenly got a hold of my hair and pulled me back from his shoulder so I was instead looking at his face, so close, his eyes focused on me. "I wanna fuckin' hear you."

I closed my eyes, biting my lip, wrapping my legs tighter as I felt myself clench around him at his words.

He pulled my hair again. "Open your eyes," he demanded, and I followed his order obediently, immediately lost in the blue of his eyes, the perfect shape of his lips. My fingers dug further into his shoulders, my arm around him pulling me up even more so that my breasts were flush against his warm chest, his motions finding a perfect rhythm between my legs, and I was so fucking close. I pressed my forehead to his, feeling his heart pound with mine, closing my eyes again, holding my mouth tight against the sounds of pleasure.

But then his hips slowed, gradually coming to an almost complete stop inside of me. I opened my eyes, looking at him questionably, but he looked back down at me with an unapologetic expression.

"I said," he growled, a dangerous edge to his voice that gave me chills, "I wanna fuckin' hear you." He pulled out of me as he spoke, so slow, and I whimpered, my head falling back. He took advantage of the revealed skin, kissing my neck as he came back inside of me with the same unhurried motion, letting us both feel every inch of him as he pressed forward. I tried to move my hips up to him, make him go faster, but his hand on my hip forced me still.

"C'mon," he said into my skin, staying inside of me for just a second before starting again, torturously slow. His thumb started to make almost soothing circles on the top of my thigh, encouraging me, contrasting the harsh tone of his words. "Ya got a smart mouth on you and I wanna hear it now."

Dirty talk. He wanted me to fucking dirty talk him. Now? Didn't he understand how incapable he was making me, the extent he was breaking me down, how much this was changing me? I couldn't even think straight, let alone make my suddenly thick tongue cooperate.

"Can't," I gasped, gritting my teeth. At my denial, the hand at my hip inched between us, and he pressed his thumb to my clit as he slid back into me.

"Gonna be stubborn 'bout it?" he asked, though he didn't sound much better than I did. His head fell forwards so that his forehead was lying on my collarbone, the arm holding himself up shaking slightly, his whole body tense as he cursed under his breath.

But for some reason, the signs of his undoing made it easier for me to keep it together. I moved my hand from his shoulder to the side of his head, nudging him back up to me, our faces so close that our noses were grazing. I tilted up so that our lips were touching, our breaths mingling. I kept us there, reveling in how perfect this moment was, and he had to know, had to know what this meant.

"Please," I whispered, begging, feeling his lips move with mine. "I need you."

And I meant it, in so many ways, and I wanted him to see them all, no barriers, no hiding. There wasn't room for that now, not when I was feeling this sure. I looked into his eyes, still locked onto mine, and I saw something change in the way he was looking at me. We were both unsteady now as he rocked his hips, barely moving inside of me, keeping us both wanting more. I moved my hand to the back of his neck, and he bent forward so that our lips were touching in a soft kiss, the mood completely shifted.

I felt his hand at the back of my head, holding me to him as he pushed us both down so that I was back on the ground, his hand shifting so that his forearm was underneath my neck. He kissed away from my mouth, down to my neck as he entered me again, the different angle allowing him to go further, making my breath catch. He mouthed my name against my skin, his voice almost inaudible as he began to thrust more steadily into me, barely controlled.

I was already so close to the edge, overflowing with both physical pleasure and the emotion of the moment, and it was all I could to to hold onto him, my breaths ragged as I tried to hold back. I couldn't help the motion of my hips, rocking up to meet him for every thrust, and he had to use his hand to keep me down. I knew he was struggling to keep it together just as much as I was, his motions becoming less rhythmic. He kissed my neck and down, working a trail to my breast, but before he could even get there, before I was ready, I was lost to the bliss, my body tensing as I came around him, my legs trying to pull him in deeper, forcing my hips to his. I felt him groan into the crook of my neck as he followed after me, his fingers digging almost bruisingly into the skin of my thigh, holding me there as he finished. He was only able to keep himself up for a few seconds before his arm gave way, his body crashing to mine, my legs falling stiffly from around him.

My whole body was still trembling, and even as I came back down from the high, I was finding it difficult to breathe. I couldn't wrap my head around what had just happened, how much I felt had changed. He rolled off of me, but kept his arm behind my head, and we laid there for a few moments while I tried to gather my thoughts, listening to his breathing.

"So," he said, turning his head to me. "Ya still wanna leave?"

**Eek! I'm a little wary of this chapter, so go on and leave a review and I'll be back in a week ;) **


	12. Chapter 12

**Saw some new faces reviewing last chapter! Hello to you! I wish I had the energy to respond, but let's just get right down to it, shall we? Sorry I'm late. Sometimes life is a thing that just happens, and this chapter had to be perfect. **

**Time to switch gears, guys. Thanks as always for reading, follows, favorites, reviews! It's great. **

"So," he said, turning his head to me. "Ya still wanna leave?"

An ugly pang hit my stomach at his question. It wasn't what I wanted to hear, too close to bringing up old memories of times he would shut me out as soon as we were done. I turned on my side, propping myself up on my elbow so I was sitting up straighter. "Why are you asking me that now?"

He didn't answer, taking his arm from underneath me and sitting up, shaking out his hair before reaching for his pants. He tugged them on, still not speaking, and stood, the jeans riding low on his hips. He walked the short distance to the other side of the garage, picking up the blanket I had left folded there and tossed it to me. I quickly spread the quilt out over me, covering myself, though I didn't feel nearly as cold as I normally did, the heat of our bodies having spread to the floor. He came back, stopping to pick up my clothes. He gathered my shirt and bra, but then paused, his mouth quirking in a little smile as he picked up my panties, letting my jeans fall back to the floor.

"Uh, you forgetting something, Daryl?" I asked as he tossed my clothes back to me, moving to sit back down at my side under the blanket, still without his shirt.

"You don't need 'em. You ain't goin' nowhere."

I looked away from him, trying to hide my blush and a smile of my own as I slipped everything but the pants back on. I cleared my throat when I was finished, sweeping my hair out from where it had gotten trapped underneath my shirt. "You're staying?" I asked, trying to be casual, but the question came off more vulnerable than I wanted it to. I couldn't keep up with this change of pace.

"What else am I s'posed to do, with you threatenin' to walk?"

The implication of what he was saying didn't sit right with me. "I wasn't just threatening to leave. I was going. There's a difference."

He turned his head to study me for a second. "Ya would've left."

It wasn't quite a question, but I answered it anyways. "Yeah. I would've."

"Alright," he said, nodding his head. "Then why're ya stayin'?"

I tried to keep the frown off my face, contemplating how to answer. It wasn't as easy for me to talk to him about this when I wasn't as distracted by physical things. It seemed so much easier to show him than verbally put myself on that line.

But then he chuckled. "You know how easy to read ya are?"

I looked at him sharply. "What?" It had been a while since I had last seen him laugh, but just the sound was enough to remind me of how easy things used to be between us.

He shifted so that he was now facing me. "Try and lie to me right now." He tapped my knee when I didn't respond. "Go on. We got work to do."

I was reeling from this unexpected attitude, but followed his lead, turning to face him, our knees touching under the blanket. I squared my shoulders, trying to get on the same page as him. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talkin' about how ya need to keep better control."

I snorted, raising my eyebrows and looking at him appraisingly. "I don't think I'm the one who needs to learn a thing or two about control," I said, smirking. This wasn't what I had been expecting, but it was so different from the animosity and moroseness that had become so regular between us that I found I was actually enjoying myself. At least this part of our relationship wasn't fucked.

"Sassin' me now. Good. Better'n the poutin' you've been doin'."

I smiled, ready for this banter. It had been so long since we had last shared a good moment. "Oh, please. I might pout, but you're the one who pulls the stoic, slightly troubled 'don't-fuck-with-me' face," I retorted, trying to mimic his scowl.

"Say what ya want, but I ain't the one who's gonna be fucked when it comes to coverin' my ass," he said matter of factly.

"Why this sudden concern?" I asked lightly, though the question was real. "You know I can handle myself."

"So you keep tryin' to tell me."

I hadn't even realized that we had started to lean in closer to each other, and I quickly straightened. I didn't like what I was hearing.

"Relax. I know ya can hold yer own. Think I would've put up with you past a week if that wasn't true?" he asked, and let those words sit for a second. "But we ain't talkin' about that," he said, and suddenly, he took one of my hands that had been resting on my knee, running his thumb over my index finger. I looked down at where he was holding me, feeling my heart rate accelerate. "I'm talkin' bout shit like this. You tap your finger when you're gettin' all fussed about sumtin," he said more quietly, turning my hand over in his, grazing his touch from my finger to my palm.

My mouth felt dry, my eyes glued to our hands. "I wasn't tapping my finger."

"Yeah, ya were. Ya always do. But that's an easy fix," he said, dropping my hand, breaking the spell. "It's more what ya show here," he said, and moved his hand to my face instead. I unconsciously leaned into his touch, and he immediately retracted his hand.

I knew I shouldn't test this moment, but I couldn't help but have questions. "Why are you being like this?"

I saw him tense, his shoulders stiffening. "Like what?"

"Like...this," I said, pointing from him to me. "You haven't talked to me in days, and now we're doing lessons?"

He looked back to me. "That was before. And this is important."

"Before what?"

But he only tapped my knee again. "C'mon, now. Focus."

I pursed my lips, but then nodded, deciding to play along. "Fine. I tap my finger when I'm antsy. What else?"

"Ya bite your lip when you're about to do sumtin you shouldn't. 'Specially with me."

"I do not!" I denied loudly, earning a warning look from him.

"Ya gonna argue or ya gonna listen?"

I was annoyed with the scolding, but I couldn't deny that this whole thing was intriguing. "Alright. What do you want me to do?"

"I told ya, try and lie to me."

I scrunched my nose up, displeased with his instruction. "Why?"

"'Cause you need practice."

"But that's not fair!" I protested. "How the hell am I supposed to lie to you?"

"Better think of somethin' fast," he said, and I could tell he was enjoying having the edge on me.

"No way. You'll know. You always know when someone's lying."

He shrugged. "It ain't as hard as people make it out to be. Just gotta spend more time watchin' and listenin' than talkin'," he said, his words slowing as his eyes traveled over my face.

I was finding it hard to concentrate under his scrutiny, uncomfortable with the focus entirely on me. "No. You ask questions. I'll answer. And then we'll see if you're really as good as you think you are," I said, bringing this back to a place I was more familiar with, challenging him.

He stared at me for a second, seemingly mulling it over. "Fine, if ya wanna play it that way. Why'd you give a shit if they knew about us?" he asked, nodding his head towards where the rest of the group was, outside of our garage.

I was a little shocked at his suddenly direct approach, and I scrambled for a response while he watched. I had expected something simple. "I didn't," I lied lamely, not ready to explain.

"Yer lyin," he said easily, still watching me steadily. "Don't look away. That's a dead giveaway."

"Don't ask me stupid questions, then," I said petulantly. I wasn't entirely sure if I liked the confidence he seemed to be getting from this new dynamic between us, that of teacher and student, but at the same time, I was willing to put it to the test.

"It ain't stupid if ya can't even answer," he said calmly, and compared to my childishness he seemed to be in even more control of this conversation.

I set my jaw, trying to keep on his level. "Fine. I didn't want them knowing because it's none of their business. And because I didn't want them looking at us differently." I could have expanded, but he seemed to understand what I meant.

"Alright, then," he said. "Good. That was truth."

I was sure this wasn't just about teaching me a poker face anymore. "I know."

He seemed like he wanted to comment on that, but then he shook his head. "Keep goin'. Why'd ya decide to leave?"

This time, I was more ready for the intrusive question. "Because you were being an idiot," I said, harsher than I meant to, but it was true. "Were you actually under the impression that you cutting off contact with me was going to help?"

He paused, the muscle of his jaw twitching. "Clean cut."

"That was the opposite of clean. And that was my idea first, remember? I was the one who said we needed space, and you were the one who said there was no such thing. Leaving was a clean break, not just trying to ignore each other." I paused. "I wasn't just throwing a tantrum. It was all I could think to do."

We stared each other down, but he broke away first. "At least that's a choice. Better than changin' your damned mind all the time," he groaned, stretching to pop his neck, muscles flexing.

I watched him, trying to tell if he was kidding or not. "Let's rewind for a second," I said, a little angrily, leaning back away from him. "I didn't start changing my mind about this until after the second time you fucked and ditched."

"You ain't clued me in yet on what 'this' is," he said firmly, and I could tell he was resenting this change of subject, sensitive to the events of our past.

But I didn't care. "How am I supposed to know that? You only told me a week ago that you actually give a shit," I said heatedly, and it felt good to be getting it out.

"What, want me to hold yer hand?" he asked, a derisive edge to his voice. "I was talkin', ya just weren't listenin' the way ya should've been."

Now we were getting to it. "I was just supposed to believe all of a sudden that you cared? Forget the way you treated me like I was just someone to get you off? All I wanted was for you to tell me I wasn't fucking alone in this." I said all of this in a rush, holding his eye the whole time, but now I struggled to keep from looking away, needing him to know how true this was. "I didn't trust myself anymore, alright? I didn't know what the hell I was doing, and I fucking hated it. I wanted this to just be sex. I tried. But it's not, not for me, and I hated myself for that. I absolutely fucking hated myself for wanting you."

He was completely silent in the face of this new truth, leaving me to listen to my heart pounding, every beat telling me I had pushed this too far.

But then he spoke. "I want you," he said, his voice low, and my eyes flashed back to his. He didn't look away, didn't even blink, just stared me down, letting that admission settle between us.

I knew better than to try and make him elaborate. I shifted again, leaning back on my palms, debating how to respond. "Next," I said quietly, deciding he had given me enough for now.

He was quick to move on, but I wasn't ready for his next question, either. "Whaddya want?"

This time, I looked him dead in the eye. "Honestly? I don't know. But I know I'm best when I'm with you."

"That's a lie," he said immediately, pulling back, and I could see he was starting to close himself off to me.

I tried not to visibly react to the quick rejection. I wasn't backing down this time, unwilling to let this moment between us go. "No," I insisted. "That was real."

"Just cause you think it don't make it true."

"I'm not just thinking it. I'm serious." I bit my lip, then, remembering what he had told me, stopped. I felt like I had taken things as far as they could go, and as much as I was enjoying this, this openness that I had nearly forgot we were even capable of, I wanted to turn the tables on him. I sat up to my knees, the blanket falling to the floor, and moved closer to him, hushing him when he started to ask what I was doing. I put my arms on his shoulders, bracing myself as I sat in his lap, putting my legs around him, the skin of my inner thighs meeting his warm sides. He immediately put his hand on my hips, his forearms resting on my legs even as he looked up at me with a disapproving expression.

"It's my turn, Mr. Dixon," I said, situating myself so that our bodies were even closer. "Time for you to answer my questions."

His eyes flicked from the garage door to me, but his hands tightened on my hips.

"We've got time," I said, anticipating his excuse. He was beginning to look a little panicked at my taking over. "Relax," I said soothingly, brushing my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, easing away to give him more air. "Just answer my questions."

"Why?" he asked gruffly. "I ain't the one who needs teachin'."

"Because I want to talk. And this," I said, squeezing my legs, "is the best way I can think of to make you less controlled. Time to see how honest you can be."

I could tell he was having a hard time, the conflict all over his face, his fingers digging into my skin, either to pull me close or hold me off I couldn't tell. I didn't keep him waiting for long. "Before what?" I asked, repeating my question from earlier that he had avoided. "You said that you not talking to me was before. Before what?"

I saw his Adam's apple move as he swallowed, his eyes flicking away from me. I waited, trying to be patient as he sorted out whatever he was feeling. I felt almost guilty for crowding him like this, knowing I was overwhelming him, but I couldn't risk backing off to let him become more guarded. "Before you were leavin'," he said suddenly, a gravelly edge to his voice.

He had started to look away from my face to my body, his hands inching up my thighs, his fingertips coming just into the leg openings of my panties. I put my hand on the side of his face to keep him on me, though it was beginning to become a real struggle for me, too. I leaned in closer, and I felt his approval in the way his fingers slid higher. I couldn't help myself, not around him, and finally hearing these things from him was making it even more impossible to keep from giving in to the urges I was feeling.

"But you ain't?" he asked more quietly, his voice a little unsteady as his eyes met mine, and it was the most defenseless I had seen him be with me in a long time, not since that fucking game of target practice that had started this, and I couldn't control everything I was feeling, not trusting myself to speak.

Instead, I answered him with a kiss, trying to assure him that way. He didn't fight me, keeping one hand on my thigh while the other went to my hip, holding me tight, his thumb running over the band of my panties but not going further. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and he sat up straighter so we were pressed closer together, the warmth of his chest and the taste of his kiss heady, making my thoughts jumble. I left his mouth, kissing down his jaw, loving the expanse of his torso that was bare for me. He should be without a shirt all the time.

But before I could even really get started enjoying the feel of his lips on mine, I heard the sound of someone banging on our garage door from the outside, startling me. I had nearly forgotten that there was an outside. I broke away from him reluctantly to look at the sunlight that had begun to filter through the crack between the door and the ground. More time had passed than I realized.

"Taylor! Daryl!" Glenn's voice. "What are you two doing in there? It's the crack of seven."

"Shit," I whispered, quickly removing myself from Daryl, though he was still holding onto me. He caught my wrist as I reached for my jeans, pulling me back to him roughly, his free hand entangling in my hair at the side of my head, keeping my face close to his. I could feel his annoyance and frustration in the way that he was holding me, his irritation with being interrupted obvious.

"This ain't done," he said, and even though the words sounded nearly threatening, I smiled, nodding at the promise I heard of things to come.

**Whoa. Did I just write a practically angst free chapter? Who woulda thunk it? **


	13. Chapter 13

**Okay, yes, I am late again. I apologize. I was completely stuck as to where to take these two for a bit, but I've got my creativity flowing again. Thank you to ChooseJoy for beta-ing the fuck out of this chapter. **

**I almost waited until this Friday to publish this, as y'all were rather quiet last chapter, but I'm bad at being patient. And I'll be back on schedule this Friday!**

**Caffiend04- Welcome! And thank you! Mary Sues aren't fun, and, honestly, I like my Daryl best when he's nekkid. **

**NanamiYatsumaki- a few steps back, you say? Hmm. Don't stay comfortable for long ;)**

**MollyMayhem84- Not gonna lie, completely uncomfortable with Daryl being squishy, hahaha. And I hate you just a little bit, too. **

**ObjectiveObserverFromAfar- Feel free to be tipsy every time you review. It's fucking entertaining. And I'm a little relieved that I won't have to deal with as much sex aftermath as usual, too. Right? Hopefully? Maybe? And…let's make it Daryl's little finger ;)**

**Thanks also to xBlackxRosexRebellionx, hideher, Ashley, and Shera1313 (sorry I'm late!) for reviews, as well, and to those that favorited/followed. **

**Let's see if they can keep up an angst free trend.**

A week and a half had passed since we had settled in at the garage, and we were celebrating.

Well. Celebrating was definitely not the right term for what we were doing, but this was the first night Rick had allowed for a bonfire, too worried before about who or what the smoke and light might draw. But now, enough time had passed without incident that it seemed this whole garage, as unwelcoming as it was, might be a real, plausible solution to our endless, aimless wandering.

So the fire was going strong, and we were all together, and it almost felt safe.

But as I watched Daryl from where he was standing across from me, I felt I had more important things to be concentrating on. Our talk from this morning had gone on incomplete throughout the day, and every time I looked at him served as another tingling reminder that our conversation wasn't the only thing left unfinished.

I wasn't sure if he was on the same page as me, judging from how even now he wasn't returning my stare, but before I could put too much weight on it, Rick began speaking. His talks had gotten a lot less motivational since the beginning of all of this, but tonight he gave out tasks to people with a slightly sure tone, a certainty behind his words that evoked a good response from the group. I perked up a little when he skipped over me and went straight to Daryl, knowing that we must be about to be assigned to something together.

"Daryl, I'll put you in charge of checking out the nearby grounds. We need to expand a little further out if we're serious about making a go of this, and I need to know that we'll have food nearby. Take Taylor with you and I can give you a couple days."

Rick looked at me, and I nodded, secretly thrilled at the free offer of alone time. I glanced at Daryl, expecting him to agree, but he avoided my gaze, looking at Rick.

"No. I don't need her. Gimme the truck and I'll do it alone."

I raised my eyebrows at him in surprised concern, trying to catch his eye, but he was looking steadily away from me, ignoring my attempts. "I can come," I said firmly, trying to make it sound like more of a command than an offer. "Really."

But Rick was already shaking his head, reinforcing my opinion. "I don't want anyone doing anything alone. We've lost too many people doing things that way."

"I'm faster on my own. Less chance of fucking up. If ya want this done fast," he said, and finally his eyes flicked to me, "I ain't takin' anyone."

I waited for Rick to shut him down, knowing full well that there wasn't any way he was letting someone, not even Daryl, risk it. Rick paused, him and Daryl having some silent communication that I couldn't understand as they looked at each other, everyone quiet. "One day," he said, bowing his head, looking almost threateningly serious, holding up one finger.

My mouth opened in surprise, and I stood up, looking around to see someone else react in the same way, but I wasn't seeing the same consternation I was feeling reflected back at me. I almost felt a fit of anger coming on, but I bit my tongue against the annoyance, choosing to confront him later. There was no way in hell this was going to happen.

Daryl nodded, still not looking at me, moving to walk around me. But, before he had passed, I felt his fingers brushing very purposely over my hip, skimming around to my back before he was gone in an almost unnoticeable touch. I looked over my shoulder, confused, trying to catch his eye, but he kept looking ahead as if nothing had happened, as if he wasn't driving me fucking crazy. When I was about to look away, he turned a little, eyeing me before giving an almost imperceptible nod, beckoning me to follow. I faced back forward quickly, trying to focus back on what Rick was saying in a shot at ignoring the excitement I felt at his acknowledgment.

I gave it a few minutes before I excused myself, getting up to follow after him. I walked cautiously to the same corner I had seen him disappear around, shivering slightly as I got further away from the warmth of the fire. He was waiting for me there, leaning against the wall, a prized unlit cigarette hanging from his lips, fitting the theme of letting loose for tonight. He was holding up a lighter, his hand held up to block the wind as he flicked his thumb, but he stopped when he saw me. We stared each other down for a few seconds as I crossed my arms, rubbing them in an attempt to gather some friction and fend off the growing worry that I had misread him, expecting him to have spoken by now, but then he slipped the lighter back in his jacket pocket.

"You planning on smoking that?" I asked, nodding towards the cigarette, still miffed with him but fading fast at the look he was giving me, appraising and slightly hungry.

He took a moment more, his eyes traveling down my body as he rolled the cigarette between his lips, his attention making me stand unconsciously straighter. "Depends."

I took an uncertain step towards him, starting to feel uncomfortable. "On?"

But instead of answering, he suddenly reached forward, grabbing my hand and yanking me to him. I looked up at his rugged face, somehow impossibly more appealing with the cigarette, but I wasn't about to forget how he had dropped me back there. I put on a disciplined, severe face, trying in vain to discourage the hands coming up to my waist. "What are you doing?" I hissed, looking around as he pressed up my back, being unusually touchy.

"I told ya this wasn't done," he said lowly, his speech a little stunted by the cigarette still in his mouth. I reached up, removing it and putting it in my own pocket as he bent forward to nuzzle into my neck, his now free lips ghosting over my skin, and I struggled to keep my concentration.

"Not finished talking," I said, emphasizing the last word but allowing my hands to slip from his wrists and on.

"Naw. Just ain't done," he answered smoothly, holding my chin to keep me from arching away from him as he aimed towards my mouth, but I shook my head.

"What the hell was that back there?" I asked, using my hands on his arms to keep him still, pushing his grip off my face. "Since when do you work best alone?"

He sighed, giving up, dropping his head with a thud against the wall. "Ain't nothin' new."

"We work together. That hasn't changed."

But he was already shaking his head. "No way. Ain't riskin' it."

I leaned away from him so that we weren't as connected. "Not risking what?"

He released me completely, pointing out to the woods. "I take ya out there, whaddya think's gonna happen?" His stance was suddenly defensive, his voice harsh. "It takes one goddamn second of one of us not doin' what we're s'posed to, and we're both dead."

I shrugged weakly, surprised at the sudden outburst. "We do what we need to, same as always."

"It ain't as simple as that no more." He turned away, and I couldn't see when the change from horny to angry had happened, or why the two emotions were always so closely linked when it came to us.

"This is simple. I'm going with you. And honestly, fuck you for thinking otherwise. Or do you not remember what happened the last time one of us went out alone?" I asked, picking up his hand and putting it on the side of my stab wound. I knew I was hitting a little below the belt, but I had to show him how serious I was.

He looked down at where I was still holding his hand, his thumb making a broad stroke over my ribs before he pulled away from my grip. He looked me over again, his eyes calculating in a way I didn't like.

"I don't need your permission, Daryl. I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. I. Am. Coming." I moved in closer to him, taking his hands again, trying to reduce the sharpness of my words. I still hadn't forgotten the way this conversation had started, and while I needed to make my point, I wanted to get us back to that place. I replaced my body so I was against him once again, guiding his hands slowly from the tops of my thighs to my hips to my waist. "So accept it," I said more softly, cocking my head at him and giving a small smile.

"If we're doin' this," he said more calmly, letting me continue moving his hands on my body, "there can't be none of this," he finished, his thumbs reaching to just barely touch my breasts over my shirt, reiterating his point.

I nodded in agreement, but I was distracted now, getting a little more dangerous in where I was leading his hands, bringing them to the sides of my breasts just to listen to his breathing change. He started to move on his own, using his knuckles to touch down my waist, and I felt my lips part as I watched him watch us, but then he stopped, his eyes meeting mine.

"I ain't fuckin' around. No distractions."

I was slightly annoyed with this instruction, as if I needed it, but as I considered how even now I was trying to manipulate his hands to stop teasing me, I didn't argue. "Fine. That goes for you, too."

His hands, now at my hips, began to move back up, pulling my shirt with him, goosebumps rising on my skin both from the feel of his touch and the exposure to the cold. He smirked down at me as I shivered, bending down closer. "I ain't the problem, sweetheart," he whispered, fingertips passing up my spine, making the chills worse.

I felt a rush of pleasure at the term that very nearly beat out my intense indignation at his cockyness. Two could play at that game.

"If you're so concerned about good behavior, we should probably start now," I said, tilting forward to get next to his ear, letting my teeth skim along the edge, making him wrap his arms more firmly around me. "Control, remember?" I asked huskily, and removed myself from his arms. "Be up by sunrise," I ordered needlessly as I walked away, doing it just to see the baffled, confused look on his face give way to a huffy, pissed off expression, knowing full well he would be up before me. It felt good to assert control in this way, and I felt more sure than ever we were on the right track.

* * *

We were on our third stop, and I was tired of being quiet.

I had followed Daryl's request for a distraction free trip so far, not questioning the plan of following the backroads around the garage, making stops to venture out to the woodsy areas to see what we could find, packing the truck with what we found, be it supplies from the occasional house or future signs of game for Daryl.

And I had been quiet through it all, playing very stringently by the rules. But, as I looked at the dusty, abandoned living room of the house we had just cleared, I decided the quiet was getting tedious. We were still slightly on edge around each other after being twice interrupted, careful to keep touches minimal, but I saw no reason to spend the day in silence.

"I fucking hate Georgia weather," I called out to where he was upstairs.

He didn't answer at first, and I heard his quick footsteps coming down the stairs. "What you say?" he asked, looking at me, slightly bemused, his crossbow relaxed now that we knew we were relatively safe.

"Georgia weather. I fucking hate it. It always gets so cold, and all I remember thinking is that the least it could do is snow." I shrugged at him, turning to absentmindedly ruffle through an open desk drawer.

He put his crossbow down, bending to look through the meager supplies that we had managed to unearth here and what we couldn't afford to leave unprotected in the truck. The house had obviously been stripped before we got there. "Best watch what you're wishin' for," he said, standing up and coming behind me. "Last thing we need is snow up to our asses."

I rocked back into him a little playfully, surprised when he caught my waist. I knew he was in a good mood from our bump free trip so far, but I had expected him to shut my attempts at conversation down. Then again, we had always been able to talk on these trips before. Maybe he was remembering that, too.

I swayed back into him, holding his hand on my waist, testing him a little bit, and I was pleased when he didn't pull away, instead bending down so that his head was next to mine.

"That's far enough, girl," he said, scolding in a way that piqued my interest. He still hadn't let me go, and I heard the challenge in his words. I reached back with my other hand to hold onto his hip, undulating slightly against him, trying to see how he would react, continuing when his hand tightened on my waist. He slid his hand under my shirt and up my stomach, contradicting his own words, slipping into the cup of my bra to knead at my breast.

"Never enough," I disagreed quietly, letting my head fall back into his chest, moving my ass against him, feeling him getting hard.

But I had made a promise that I wasn't going to fuck this up for us, and I needed to prove to myself and to him that we could still do this. I sighed, releasing his hip, pulling his hand down and pushing away from him, running my hand through my hair as I tried to dissipate the desire I was feeling low in my stomach, needing to get back on task.

I had only made it about a foot before I felt him grab me back to him, his hand entangling in my hair, turning me to face him. He used his grip on my hair to push me back, ignoring the furniture, the stale stench of mildew and decay, not stopping until I was against the wall, a vicious heat in his eyes that I didn't have time to comprehend before he was slamming against me, kissing me hard, his hand coming from my hair to my cheek, grasping my jaw and opening my mouth to him, his tongue dominating my mouth. He pressed his hips to me, letting me feel how hard he now was, his hands pinning my arms to the wall as he ground against me, moving to cup my breasts over my shirt, making my breath catch. I was desperate to keep up with him, wanting him so badly, but he was moving faster than I could keep track of, his hands possessive and determined on my body.

"What happened to no distractions?" I gasped out as he moved on to my neck, but he ignored me, pushing my hair aside before reaching to shove his fingers into my jeans, tugging them down, all sense of foreplay gone. I wanted to be concerned about how hurried his motions were, should try to slow down his hasty fingers, but all I felt was the need for him to go even faster, my skin hurting for more of his touch. He worked his hand into the band of my panties, his fingers searching into my folds, finding and rubbing relentlessly over my clit, bringing me quickly to his level, his other hand holding my thigh open from the quivers threatening to clamp them shut. I couldn't catch my breath, getting lightheaded under his lips and hands, and even though this was breaking every rule in our book, I didn't care. I was lost to him, oblivious to our filthy surroundings and the time we were wasting, focusing only on him, his body, his touches, his sounds quickly becoming my whole world. He was all I could see, all I could feel, all I could taste, completely dictating my senses, and the need I felt was wiping out everything else.

His hands left me to jerk my jeans down my legs, and I stepped out of them to let the fabric pool at my feet, my gun falling out of its holster with a clatter. I reached for his buckle, but he beat me there, undoing the belt and zipper. I reached into his boxers, hearing him hiss slightly as I wrapped my hand around his hardness. He didn't let me for long, pulling my hand gently away to come in closer, both of our breaths coming fast and ragged as the boxers came down. He hitched my legs around his hips, neither of us able to wait or try and prolong the moment as he hooked two fingers around my panties to pull them aside, allowing him to slide perfectly inside of me. He set his forearm on the wall above my head, bracing his weight, not giving either of us time to adjust as he started moving into me, his position not allowing for much movement but the friction on my clit affecting me strongly all the same. I felt hot all over, an unfamiliar prickling of sweat on the back of my neck as I tried to keep breathing, his lips going as far as my shirt would allow, his tongue sliding over my collarbone.

I was overwhelmed faster than I thought possible, my breaths breaking, my mouth open, my brow drawn. I reached around to hold onto his arms, my fingers digging into his tight biceps, feeling the muscles of my stomach clench as I struggled to keep both upright and coherent, feeling him stretch and fill me so wonderfully. He pressed his cheek to my temple, the scratchy feeling of his hair grounding me, and I leaned my head back to look into his eyes, so close, his hand hitching my leg up higher so he could hit into me harder. We both made sounds of appreciation, the slight change of position allowing him to thrust into me just right, my hips trying to meet his every movement, and almost embarrassingly fast I came around him, my whole body spasming, and I was wordless, unable to even think for the sensations radiating from my core, ripping through me, not even purchasing him following after me, letting my legs go slack. He kept close to me, his breaths fanning over my face, his body holding up my own, the tips of his fingers running gently up my thighs, around my hips, barely curving over my ass, forcing random clenches around him, still softening inside me. I nearly wanted to shrink away from him, completely and almost painfully sensitive, and I was still having a hard time breathing, turning my face away in the hope of some air.

"Easy, now," he said, but there was a rasp to his voice that did nothing to help my attempt at controlling my own body.

He placed a brisk kiss high on my neck before stepping away, and it took all of my remaining wits to keep from just collapsing onto the floor. I took a deep, shaky breath, trying to recover, but I was quickly coming to the realization that our time, already so limited, was disappearing. I tried to rouse up some concern as I replaced my gun in the holster at my hip, but all I felt was satisfied, and judging from the new looseness to his limbs as he got dressed, he was feeling the same way.

But I had a distressing reminder in the back of my mind that this was the second time we had fucked up on protection in the last two days, inwardly admonishing myself as I watched him put the crossbow back in its place. We needed to get that shit under control, Lori a constant reminder of the threat we faced if our recklessness caught up to us.

I tried to clear my face as he looked back at me, a content look on his face that I didn't want to ruin. He tossed me two bags, one my own filled with extra weapons and another filled with our newly found supplies.

I waited inside a little longer after he had left, taking another few deep breaths before following. He was standing in the yard, his own army duffle at his feet, looking slightly less relaxed, his body still as his head turned, scanning the forest line, his hand on his crossbow strap as if ready to pull it in front of him. I came up next to him, my arm brushing his as I tried to see whatever it was that had alerted him, but I caught nothing. I hesitated, not sure if I should touch him again, but couldn't see a reason to hold back anymore. I reached out to him, needing to feel the reassurance of his touch, still not used to the concept of sex, especially the kind we just had, bringing us closer together rather than farther apart. I touched his forearm, getting his attention and stopping his search, walking around to position myself in front of him.

"Hey," I said gently, smiling up at him as I grazed my fingers down to his wrist, tilting forward. He looked down at me, seeming a little amused, but then his gaze went beyond me, his eyes widening for a split second before narrowing dangerously, and I instantly knew something was wrong.

Faster than I could react to the sudden change in his expression, he had reached an arm around me to push me roughly behind him, his other hand reaching for the crossbow on his back, but a voice stopped him before he could even begin to pull it around.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. No need for that."

I found the source of the voice easily, a man somewhere in his thirties looking slightly more filthy and worn than we were emerged from the line of woods that Daryl had been watching. He took a few steps towards us, his gun aimed steadily at Daryl. I instinctively went to where my gun was holstered, but the stranger caught the movement and tilted his gun to me instead, our eyes meeting. At this, Daryl dropped his arm slowly from his shoulder, lowering his arm and coming to a stop so that it was outstretched in front of me, his hands in fists.

"Hands out, nice and slow. That's it. Drop your gun on the ground, girly. Knife too. I see anything I don't like, I'm shooting first and asking questions later, you hear me?"

I saw no choice but to do as he ordered, my gun and Daryl's knife falling to the ground, and I held my hands splayed out where he could see. Daryl hesitated, keeping his arm in front of me, but doing the same as me with his free hand. I looked at his arm, almost resenting the way he kept it stretched protectively in front of me, wanting to be by his side instead, ready to react if needed. My heart was pounding with an unpleasantly fierce adrenaline, nerves flooding my senses. I glanced at Daryl, looking at his face, his hands, hoping for some kind of signal as to what he wanted me to do, but he was trained unblinkingly on the threat. I thought quickly about the lay of the yard, unwilling to look around, but I already knew there was nothing but the house to run to, and no way would we be able to make it before we were both dead.

But it didn't even matter. I was positive that everything I was thinking had already gone through Daryl's mind, and he was giving me no sign that there was a plan, and suddenly I was terrified in a way that I hadn't been since I had almost bled out on that bathroom floor. We had never had the jump on us like this, not with people when I wasn't sure what they wanted from us. I watched the stranger as he took two very slow steps forward, Daryl not retreating but pushing me back further behind him with his arm, and death seemed much more tangible than it ever had before, a seeming certainty, a question of when.

He paused when he was about ten feet away. "Just you two?" he asked, and I heard no hints of uncertainty in his voice, the gun never wavering.

Daryl didn't answer, and I took his lead, not daring to break from the example he was setting. I trusted him in this, in action, in his ability to take care of us, and I wasn't about to be foolish enough to try and question what he was doing.

But he seemed to take our combined silence for confirmation to his question anyways. He turned his head, keeping his eyes on us, as he spoke. "Got two here. They're alone."

I was a little panicked at his announcement, realizing quickly that he wasn't alone, and I watched with growing, gnawing fear as three more men made their way forward, all with guns drawn, coming to a stop next to their scraggly leader.

I was struggling to keep the same poker face that Daryl had tried to teach me, not wanting them to gain anything from me, knowing that Daryl would be strong and unreadable as ever, but two of the men's lines of vision were latched onto me in a way that was unnerving. I knew my discomfort had to be showing on my face.

It felt like the seconds that were passing were minutes, the time stretching on, every instant ringing with the reminder that it could be our last.

The first man spoke again, gesturing slightly down to where the duffel was. "What's in the bag?"

"Ain't none of your concern," Daryl said, his voice downright menacing, and I felt a slight relief at the control that he exerted, even now.

The man laughed and turned his eyes to me. "How about you, doll? Wanna tell me what's in the bag?"

I didn't flinch away from his stare, though I wanted to. I said nothing, pressing my lips together, dying to look around to the others but not willing to show a weakness. He smiled a little, though it didn't touch his eyes.

"Kick the bag closer and take a step back. Slow."

Four guns still aimed on us, and I still had no idea if somebody was going to have an eager trigger finger, or if there was any point in doing as he said. I looked at the duffle still on the ground, knowing what was in there, all of my knives, the rifle, weapons we couldn't afford to lose, but Daryl kicked the bag over anyways. He took four steps back, taking me with him, and I saw his fingers flex out.

As soon as we were far enough away, one of them stepped forward, sliding our duffle back to them and unzipping it. Another put his gun away as they both sifted through our things, the remaining two men keeping steady on us, leaving us no choice but to watch. I could practically feel how angry Daryl was, coming off of him in waves, cornered and dangerous but with no actions left to take. I felt helpless, even more so as I looked from them to Daryl, and I took the chance that they were distracted, reaching up my hand as slowly and carefully as I could to put my hand on his back, hoping by touching him to tether him more firmly to me.

"Hey!" one of the croonies to the left called out, and I realized too late that my small gesture had not gone unnoticed. "Get away from each other! Step back!" He gestured with his gun at me, pointing to the side, wanting me to move, but I felt frozen, my feet unwilling to cooperate. He took a step forward when I didn't comply, squinting slightly at me, but before he could move again Daryl took lead, taking a sideways step away from me. I hated this small distance between us, feeling more exposed than ever, distinctly aware that his position still slightly ahead of me had him in the most danger. I saw no way to rectify this, terrified that any unbidden move I made to put us back together would get us killed.

The man who had stumbled out of the woods first came slightly forward, a twistedly curious look on his face that had me almost more worried than the gun. "Heard you screaming from the house. Amazing geeks didn't come running. You're a wild one."

I briefly closed my eyes, feeling my stomach drop and churn at this, threatening to make me sick, the bile at the back of my throat. But I refused to acknowledge the statement, looking instead at the men now picking up our bag, the inventory complete. One of them shouldered the bag, and two of the four began to back away from where they had come from, moving quickly, soon lost in the dusk, leaving us with just two.

It was killing me, knowing that we were more evenly matched but with no more options than before. I eyed my gun still on the ground, but it was too far away, and my knives were now gone. Even if I did make some kind of play, I had no idea if Daryl was going to be able to rack up a bolt fast enough to matter. I ground my teeth, feeling pissed now as well as scared, my knees threatening to buckle under the combined stress. I would never complain about walkers again.

The first man spoke again as the second began following in the paths of the other two that had already disappeared. "It's all good, right? We cleaned out your truck already. Thanks for the shit. Left the formula though, seems like ya'll got a group somewhere, eh?"

This time Daryl answered. "Like I said. It ain't none of your concern. Sounds like ya got what ya wanted. Best leave now before someone gets hurt."

I admired him for his composure, the threat in his voice sounding incredibly real coming from someone with a gun pointed at them. We were so close, and my heart was beating so hard it hurt, knowing that this could still so quickly be the end for both of us.

He was backing away quickly, but paused, his gun still aimed at us, and I felt my breathing stop, certain that he had changed his mind about a retreat. He looked at me, a slow, lazy grin creeping across his lips. "Sure you don't want to come along?"

I had too many expletives ready, filled to the brim with an explosive mixture of terror and hatred, but Daryl spoke before I could. "Leave," he growled, and the word was so deadly and final that I knew even this asshole had to feel it.

He only shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said, backing further away, soon hidden, the sounds of the wind and the waning light covering his exit.

But even when I couldn't see him anymore, we were both completely still, just the twitching of my cold fingers seemed to be too much. My chest was heaving, and I felt unwelcome tears at my eyes, lacking the strength to keep myself together as I tried to grasp to the reality, that we were, above all else, alive. I looked at Daryl, but could glean nothing from his stone still figure, his completely stoic face, but I saw the vein outlined in his neck, his every muscle rigid, and knew there was a fucking storm coming fast.

** Review! Helps me keep to a deadline ;) **


	14. Chapter 14

**Look who's on time! Hint: It's me. Response for the last chapter blew me away. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU. **

**Shera1313- an obsession? Sounds like fun. And yes, all things considered, they got off easy. Dunno if Daryl will see it that way. **

**wordsonpage- nice to hear from you! Somehow, I think you're right. Lordy, what a rut they've gotten into. **

**MollyMayhem84- you're writing today, right? Right? because you're giving me beta stress. I'm going to start giving you deadlines, too. And pissypants hahahahaaaaaa. Go fuck an old guy, amirite? **

**Nemu-Chan- hello! and thank you! Daryl does have an ugly tendency to get mad before everything else...**

**ObjectiveObserverFromAfar- actually cheered when I read the first line of your review and found out it was a tipsy one again. Absolutely no judgement. I fucking love it. So really, you could be an alcoholic and I would still love it. Don't apologize! thank you :) And...I'll try and bring playfulhorny Daryl out to play more often ;) **

**Thank you sososo much also to xBlackxRosexRebellionx, wellficme, WayPastMyBedtime, NanamiYatsumaki, whosegirl (no lurking necessary!), TWDfan, ChooseJoy, and hideher for reviews, and of course to those who followed/favorited. It's why this is right on schedule! But let's get to it...AFTERMATH!**

Before I could even begin to try and diffuse him, though I wasn't sure how to start, he had whipped the crossbow out like I could tell he had been itching to do this whole time, aimed to where they had disappeared. I came up closer to him, trying to sift through what I was feeling. I needed to touch him, feel for myself that he was unharmed, alive, vital.

"Don't move yet," he barked at me. I did the best I could to follow the order, but my whole body was shaking.

"Why not?" I finally asked when he showed no signs of faltering.

"'Cause I don't know why we ain't dead right now, and I ain't gettin' caught by surprise again. Pick up your gun." He said, his voice too calm, the fury lurking just underneath.

I scrambled to do as he asked, sniffing as I bent down for my gun, shuffling on my hands and knees for it. I flicked the safety off once I had found it, my sweaty palms slipping. I picked up his knife, too, not looking at him as I returned it. I was not this girl, the one who fell apart because things got too hard, but this was different, and I was finding it impossibly difficult to pretend otherwise.

"Back to the house," he instructed as soon as I had stood up.

"What about the truck?" I questioned, my voice trembling, but cringed when the question earned me a glare.

"Were you listenin'? Truck's lost, and so is our light." He looked around again, and spoke more quietly. "We're bait waitin' outside."

All I wanted to do was leave this place, but he was too on edge for me to suggest outside of his train of thought right now, and I decided to save it until we were safer.

As soon as we were back inside, he locked the door, staring out the window. I put my back to him, pressing my palms against my temples, trying to get centered before facing the situation. I took a deep, cathartic breath and turned back around, slightly more ready for the shitstorm. I was surprised out of speaking when I found him startlingly close to me, mere centimeters away, staring quietly down at me.

I was flustered, looking from his face to his chest to his arms, everything I could, trying to see what I was having a hard time believing. "I'm sorry I froze out there," I whispered, and finally I felt a few tears coming. "I just-"

But he stopped me, putting his hands on either side of my face, pulling me closer, not giving me a chance to speak before he was bending down and forcing his mouth on mine. I was jolted out of responding, simply letting him get what he needed, not sure what this was or what it meant. But then he wrapped his arms around me, bringing my body closer before pulling his face slightly away to look at me. There was such unexpected intensity there, and I knew without needing the words that he had been just as caught off guard as me. I closed the space between us, needing this moment. His hands moved down my back, his fingers splayed wide, feeling over me, not being tender but instead digging into me harder than before, as if making sure I was still here. I put my hands on his chest, needing to do the same, convince myself that for now we were here, together, safe, but as soon as I did he put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me back.

We stared at each other, both of us breathing hard, but the vulnerability was gone from his face, replaced by a hardness that unsettled me. I opened my mouth, uncertain about what needed to be said, what he needed to hear, but he cut me off again.

"Help me with this," he said, interrupting the moment, pointing at a nearby bookshelf. He didn't wait for me to understand, going to the side of the shelf and pushing it in the direction of the door, barricading it. As soon as I realized what he was doing, I started to help, hoping that by making the house more secure he would calm back down. We went through the rest of the house quickly, covering the other two entrances with discarded furniture, and drawing the curtains on the unboarded windows. This place had been left early on, and the lack of extra defenses was doing nothing to help the situation.

And neither was the complete silence we did this with. I was thinking about that kiss and what it meant, and I wished more than ever that we had just gone back to the truck and left this behind. I knew that with Daryl there were times that words weren't necessary, would only make everything worse, but I wasn't sure that this was the place for that.

He suddenly walked towards me, and I hoped for a brief second that he was going to touch me again, give me some of the reassurance I still needed, but he simply brushed past me, not even looking at me as he went back to the living room. I followed after him, trying to form some kind of plan, wondering where I should begin or what to address. When I came in, he was already pacing, wall to wall, over and over, kicking the coffee table out of his way. I waited, almost hoping for some kind of explosion, apprehensive that this repetitive pacing would wind him up further, but he gave me no acknowledgement at all.

I sighed, easing to the floor, feeling exhaustion in my limbs that was covered by the nerves still dancing over my skin. I watched him from my position on the floor, my eyes following him back and forth, searching for the words to help, uneasy about the silence that I was sure would only encourage his seething. "Are you okay?"

His eyes flicked over to me, but he didn't answer, continuing to pace. I drummed my fingers on the floor, still unbelievably confused, then stood back up, walking to block his path. "I need you to talk to me. Or yell at me. Just give me something."

He snorted, looking down at me with something that akin to disgust, and I felt a spark of anger at his obstinance.

"I know that-" I stopped, trying to find an adequate adjective. "That was fucking bad, I get that. But we're alive, we're okay." I moved to touch his hand as I spoke, thinking that maybe that was the problem, but he predicted what I was doing and pulled away, stepping backwards when I tried again. I retreated my hands, opening them in surrender. I still felt I was stepping on eggshells, treading so carefully, but cracking seemed an inevitability. "We're okay," I repeated, but saw on his face that it was the wrong thing to say.

"This what ya call okay?" he asked, spreading his arms out, and I couldn't tell if there was more danger in letting the question go unanswered or in trying to tell him what he wanted to hear.

"Well," I started, halting, hoping that the right thing would come to me, but he didn't even let me begin, waving me off and turning away.

"Just shut up for a minute and lemme think," he muttered, and the pacing resumed.

But I could only keep quiet for a second longer. "Do you want to go after them? Do you want to leave, wait until morning, what? What do you want?" I tossed the options out there, hoping that I could stumble upon something he was happy with, and maybe distract him from the obvious problem of how we had gotten here, but he turned on me instead, coming closer.

"Go after them with what? Two people and a gun runnin' out half cocked? Think!" he shouted, his mouth curling around the last word, pointing at his temple to illustrate his point.

I didn't like how he was treating me, like a child, as if I hadn't just been through the exact same experience as him. "I don't know what the fuck you want! You're not telling me what you're thinking!" I yelled back, but he started to walk away from me again, and, even though I knew it was a mistake, I touched his hand in a last ditch effort to bring him back to me.

But he caught my wrist before I could, pulling me to him as he had done so many times before, only this time I saw nothing I liked in his eyes.

"Ya wanna know what I'm thinkin' so bad?" he demanded, squeezing my wrist tighter. He was so close to me that I felt like I was choking, no air between us, his anger and frustration suffocating. "I'm thinkin' this was a mistake, that it was damn stupid to listen to you in the first place."

I swallowed, wanting to push him away but afraid to try and touch him again. He wasn't going to yell me out of fighting back. "That's not fair," I said, yanking my hand away, thankful that at least the tears were gone from my voice. "This didn't happen because I was here."

He finally leaned away from me at that, and I let out the breath that had been stuck.

"Is that right? Think I woulda been in here screamin' by myself?"

I glared at him, knowing he was going too far, but he only seemed to feed off my anger, pushing him farther.

"I could've been in and outta here in five minutes," he said. "You ain't naive enough to believe this happened for any reason other than we got chock full of reckless."

"We'll do better," I said forcefully, though I was scrambling, unwilling to acknowledge the truth of what he was saying. This wasn't falling apart, not so soon after we had put it together. He was infuriating me with this act of uncaring, belligerent bravado, and I wanted to scream at him. But, at the same time, I felt like that would be playing into his hands. He wanted to fight, to piss me off, to push me away, and maybe he was right to do so after this failure. But I wouldn't do it. I bit my tongue, rolling my shoulders back to loosen them, then looked up at him.

"This is bullshit. You're pulling the same exact hissy fit you had when I came back from that run, and it was bullshit then just like it's fucking bullshit now," I said, as calmly as I could manage. "So I am going to sit down, and you can have have this little conniption by yourself."

And I turned around, refusing to participate in this pattern we had set for ourselves.

"Fine!" he roared at my back. "I don't need ya naggin' at me anyhow!"

"Go punch a wall or something," I grumbled, stooping to immaturity as I sank back to my position on the floor, silently hoping he wouldn't take my suggestion seriously and add a broken hand to our list of problems.

He picked up his back and forth tread again, watching me every time he made the path back, kicking the coffee table once more for good measure. He put his hands behind his head, pulling at his hair before putting his arms down and coming back to stand a foot in front of me.

"Stand up," he ordered, jerking his chin up.

"Sit down," I retorted, still not willing to participate.

"This is your damn fault in the first place, now you're just gonna sit on your ass?" he demanded, pointing at me.

"This isn't-" I started, indignant, but then shook my head, refusing the bait. "Never mind. Look, I'm not gonna lie to you, Daryl, I'm still freaked the fuck out right now, and what I need is for you to please just sit with me." The words were true, but I tried to make my voice as composed as possible, not wanting to push him any harder than necessary. I was finding it somehow easier to admit to him and myself how much I needed him with every honest conversation we had.

He stared down at me, his shoulders rising and falling with the force of his breaths. I waited so long for him to make a move that I thought I had ruined it, but then he moved to stand next to me. He slid down the wall, inches away so that we weren't touching, looking straight in front of him, not looking at me, either. I sat, trying to be patient, listening to his hard breathing return to normal. It was minutes later that he cleared his throat.

"It ain't your fault. I was just sayin' shit." He cleared his throat again. "Sorry."

I nodded slowly. "I know. But it's not your fault, either." I paused, wavering on whether or not to continue. I wanted to take his mind away from what had happened, but at the same time, clear up whatever blame he was holding. "They were the fucked up ones. Not us."

He turned his head away from me, his hands pulling at the fuzzy strands of the carpet between us. "Just the way it is now. Shoulda 'xpected it. 'Specially with you here." He looked back down, quiet, a nice reprieve.

"What's that mean, with me here?" I asked, not able to decipher the vague statement.

"Means I knew what you bein' out here would mean and I let ya come along anyhow," he said, bending one leg up towards his chest.

I frowned. "Don't say you let me come. There wasn't a choice. We can't just do shit like this anymore. We were a team before all of...this. That can't change."

He finally looked at me, appraising. "Whaddya suggest, then? Cause I can't-" He stopped speaking abruptly, turning his head forward again, and when he spoke again the words were more rushed. "Cause you can't keep your damn hands off."

I actually smiled, sincere and genuine, the stretch of my cheeks almost unfamiliar. "I was walking away. That whole scene was your doing."

"Yeah, well, you fuckin' started it."

I took his hand from his lap, positive now that he wouldn't stop me, placing it on my knee palm up. "Sorry. I wasn't under the impression that you were a sixteen year old boy," I said sarcastically, tracing my finger over his palm, just this simple act of gentle touching between us reestablishing the connection I knew we had.

"I don't like it either," he mumbled.

"I didn't say I didn't like it," I answered softly, and saw his fingers curl in towards mine. "But you were right when you said no distractions, and I'm sorry for pushing it."

He didn't respond right away, but the quiet wasn't tense or loaded anymore. "Just gotta go out more focused next time," he said, looking at me again.

I felt a smile lift my cheeks again, realizing how far we had come. "Next time?" But my happiness was short lived as I realized I couldn't distract him forever from the reality of our situation or the events of the evening. I continued tracing over the wrinkles and lines of his hand, hoping to keep him calm as I moved onto necessary topics. "What do you want to do about them?"

He clenched his hand, trapping my fingers. "Nothin'."

I raised my eyebrows at him in surprise. The Daryl of even a couple months ago wouldn't be stopping to have a discussion, fueled more by rage than anything else. "Nothing?"

"We're goin' home in the mornin'. I'll circle back through here with Rick and a couple others," he told me, no room for question, and I realized that he must have already been thinking about this.

"Good. I want to get my knives back."

"You ain't comin," he contradicted firmly.

"But I thought-" I said, confused. "You just said-"

"I know what I said, but you gotta listen now when I tell ya that you ain't comin'," he answered, moving his hand down to my wrist, much more gently than before, holding my attention as he stared me down.

"Let me get this straight. You want me to tell you that it's okay with me for you to go out on a revenge run without me?" I asked slowly, trying to convey how much I hated the idea without getting angry.

"What I want is for you to not be so damn stubborn for more than five seconds at a time," he said, more heated, and I saw him grind his teeth, a visible attempt at calming down. "I didn't like the way they were lookin' at ya. So you ain't comin'."

I was feeling a surge of emotion at this display, but didn't want to show it. "Fine," I said breezily, removing my hand from his grip. "But bring back my knives. They're my favorite."

He nodded his head once, looking slightly mollified. I scooted in closer, reveling in how much safer I felt now that we were on the same page. I rested my head on his shoulder, not quite comfortable but comforted all the same. He was stiff at first, tense, but the longer we sat there, the more he relaxed.

"You sleepin'?" he asked quietly when my breathing had eased.

"No. I'll stay up with you," I said, knowing that he wouldn't allow himself to succumb.

"Don't gotta. I have us covered."

I hooked my elbow around his, and, after hesitating just a moment, took his hand in mine, interlocking our fingers. "I know you do," I whispered, bringing his hand up to my lips, kissing him gently. He didn't say anything else, our mutual silence not needing to be filled. It felt as if we had finally crawled out of the cycle that had come to define our relationship, and my relief at this was greater than anything else. I kissed the back of his hand one more time, wanting to convince him and myself once more that this hadn't broken us, either.

**C'mon, guys...the pattern has to break at some point. Review, if only to applaud pissypants/big meanie pants (thank you MollyMayhem84 and ObjectiveObserverFromAfar, you funny ladies, you) for actually sitting his ass down :) **


	15. Chapter 15

**See, I finally post something on time and y'all are more quiet than usual! Gonna give a girl mixed signals on when you want me putting these chapters up... **

**Nemu-Chan- good for him, right? He actually kind of learned something. **

**drivenunder- if I do say so myself...you ain't seen nothing yet ;) I intend on feeding the addiction.**

**Shera1313- Yay! Not too cheesy? They finally held hands. I think it counts as progress. Especially if they're both working on it. **

**LovexAndxFatex- Hello, lovely! :) I thoroughly enjoyed watching you get through their story chapter by chapter. Not many people take the time to catch up with reviews, and it was beyond fun to watch you take the hits as they came, so to speak. I'm glad you got caught up, though I feel a little tiny bit guilty that it was for this chapter, for reasons you shall see. But, *cough*, if you want to buy me chocolate and puppies for the rest of my life, you will get no arguments from me.**

**ObjectiveObserverFromAfar- TARYL. I LOVE IT. WOO. I applaud your caffiened mind. And, as much as I love him, Daryl has fucking bitchfits all the time. Worry not, I'm not big on the romantic cheesy bits either, so it won't be too much a part of this story. And, if you like sexy Taryl time...get ready. Because I may or may not be introducing another version of Daryl that I intend on bringing out more often. Ehem. **

**Thanks also to Rea Josette, NanamiYatsumaki, rippedjeans, and xBlackxRosexRebellionx for reviewing, as well as to those that followed/favorited. That being said...guys, this chapter is complete and one hundred percent shameless smut. I absolutely DETEST "Caryl," and having to see it on the show this past Sunday made me determined to prove that sexual chemistry is a thing that can still exist. So. This happened. Thousands of words of pure PWP. You have been warned... ;) **

It had been a long day.

Daryl and I had returned to the truck the morning after our sleepless night together to find, as we had been told, the bed empty except for busted open containers of baby formula. The proof of our loss had set Daryl off, and in just an hour after we returned to the garages, he had taken Rick, T-Dog, and Glenn to see if they could get back what had been taken from us. It was a long shot, we all knew, and sure enough they had returned that evening empty handed, the news spreading a certain moroseness over camp.

I was particularly worried about Daryl and how this failure would affect him. He hadn't been avoiding me, exactly, but had been quiet, withdrawn. I let him go, not knowing if I could help. He must have known that it wasn't his fault, but while I was no longer concerned that he would turn the blame on me, I wasn't at all sure how much he would punish himself until he accepted that truth.

I had hoped that finally being able to wash up a little bit this evening in the stream nearby would have lifted his spirits, the cold water maybe bring some clarity, but we had made it back to the garage with him just as silent as before.

I didn't know if it was helping that we were still sleeping on opposite sides of the garage. There hadn't exactly been a lot of time in the past couple days to discuss sleeping arrangements. But, while I still found the idea of us being that close to each other every night when so much of our relationship had been about denial weird, I was more than open to the idea of negating that space between us. I had no unrealistic expectations of Daryl cuddling me every night, but just being near him after weeks of being pushed away would mean something.

I turned on my side to look at him, already asleep, and nearly felt bad for what I was about to do. I knew he needed rest, especially after the last few days. But I wanted to distract him a little, make him feel better in the best, and sometimes only, way I had. Not to mention that I couldn't help but dwell on the idea of going whatever speed I set for us. I wanted to take my time with him for once, without the chance of being interrupted as we so frequently seemed to be. Wipe away any thoughts or doubts he still had about the last few days. The thought of being able to do what I wanted with him was having me seriously distracted.

I got up as quietly as I could, crawling over to him, the dim light guiding me. I put one knee by his hip, swinging my other leg over him to do the same on the other side, effectively straddling him, though I was careful to keep my body off of his. We had finally made some makeshift beds once we had realized this was going to be long term, and the extra padding saved my bare knees as I leaned over him. He was still sleeping, and I bent forward, excited to wake him like this, but as soon as I put my hand on his chest, his eyes snapped open. He immediately snatched my hand away from him, sitting up abruptly and throwing me off balance, bringing his arm between us. He used his forearm to push back on my stomach, and I caught a slightly crazed look on his face before I fell. I was forced uncomfortably far backwards, my back stretched in an extreme arch as my hand on the floor near his feet caught me from falling completely, the pain of the sudden hit flaring up my arm.

I looked at his eyes, prepared to push myself completely off of him if I saw any sign of anger there, but I saw his gaze focus on me, his face relaxing as he came to himself. He grabbed my shoulder, pulling me back up to him so that we were now face to face.

I punched his shoulder as soon as I was steady. "What the actual fuck, Daryl?" I asked, still catching my breath, shaking out my now aching wrist.

"Could ask you the same damn thing," he said, still slightly bleary. "Thought you were a walker."

I glared at him, but embarrassment was starting to creep over me. "Do I look dead to you?"

He shrugged, lying back down onto his crumpled up poncho pillow and rubbing his eyes. "Last time someone was all over me like that while I was out, it was a dead fucker trying to take a chomp." He bent forward a little, looking down my body, taking in my position. "What the hell were you doin'?"

I was bright red at my completely botched attempt at being sexy, wishing I hadn't tried being creative at all. "I was trying to wake you up," I said with as much dignity as I could muster. "But apparently you're a freak, so it didn't work out."

He smiled a little at my huffyness, a playfulness in his eyes as he understood what had really gone down. "What you wakin' me for then?"

I could still feel the blush burning in my cheeks, but I was pleased that it seemed my distraction had worked, even if it wasn't in the way I had intended. "I just wanted to check on you and make sure you're the same conceited ass you were when you went to sleep." I looked down at him, raising my eyebrows. "You are. So now I'd like to go back to bed. Preferably before you mistaken me for something undead again," I said, moving reluctantly to get off of him, sure that my plans were ruined. I would have to be happy with just getting him to smile.

But he grabbed my elbow, stopping me before I could move even as his voice kept the same teasing tone. "Maybe I need to see Rick 'bout gettin' me another garage. Tell 'im some girl tried fuckin' attackin' me in the middle of the night."

I was happy that his mood seemed to be improved, but that didn't mean I didn't want to smack that cockyness right out of him, and I knew exactly how I was going to do it. "Fine. I was horny," I said flippantly, watching the smirk disappear from his face at my directness. It was easier to continue now that I knew how much he liked it when I spoke to him like this. "And I was under the impression that you could help me now. But if you're not up for that," I said, raising an eyebrow suggestively, "I can go back over to my side, and I will take care of it myself, and you can just watch."

It wasn't exactly the threat I had been hoping for, but it had the desired effect all the same. His grip on my elbow moved to my upper arm, his focus entirely on me, and I could feel him stirring right where my hips were meeting his. I looked down at him sternly, waiting for a response, enjoying this take back in control.

I took his continued silence as acceptance. "Then I'm going to need you to be still. Okay?" I asked, though I wasn't really concerned with him agreeing at this point. "No moving. None. And we have to be quiet." I saw something dangerous flash in his eyes at this instruction, but he kept his gaze on me, burning. When he didn't argue, I smiled, a thrilling combination of nerves and excitement setting. It wasn't as if we hadn't done this before, but the prospect of being able to take this as slow as I wanted to go gave this experience a whole new edge. I looked into his eyes, biting my lip so that he had some idea of what I was planning, and he nodded his quick assent before throwing his head back with a near groan.

I squeezed my legs together, straddling him closer, easily feeling his hardness nestled between my legs. His hands clenched and unclenched where they lay by his sides, moving slowly to come to a tentative rest by my legs, stopping before he touched me. I appreciated this, knew how much it would have been taking for him to listen to me and let me take complete control. I reached for his hands, bringing them to my hips. He splayed his fingers out, slipping under my shirt easily, squeezing me lightly.

I waited for a second, taking the moment to appreciate this new pace, allowing myself to just enjoy the feeling of his skin on mine without asking for more. There were only ever demands between us when it came to sex, and while I more than loved that fire, I had to adjust the idea of us being together, giving and taking equally.

I slid my hands forward, working slowly from his fingers to his wrists and on, going slowly to his bare upper arms, leaning more over him as I traveled farther. I couldn't help another small smile as I traced over the hard lines of the muscles there, seemingly more defined every day, every well-earned swell and curve asking to be touched. I moved with light fingers, rubbing softly, massaging, memorizing, committed to learning him as well as he had learned me. I felt him relax to me the more I worked, his tense shoulders falling, his eyes drifting closed.

I let my hands trail over his shoulders, coming to a stop at the top button of his shirt. I waited, letting the anticipation gain intensity, the desire that I had never been able to control for him quickly flooding my senses. I wanted to keep on with my original intentions, but it was becoming harder than I had thought it would be. I chanced a quick look at his face, but the way he was now looking at me did nothing to help my resolve to go slow. Without sparing him another glance, I began to undo the buttons, one at a time, fingers working quickly to reveal what I was more than eager to see. I carefully separated the fabric, running my hands over his defined chest and abdomen. I could feel his eyes on me as I leaned forward, as slowly and as controlled as I could make myself be, just barely letting my breasts graze his body as I lowered my lips to his skin. Even with my shirt on, the contact was delicious, and I sighed, letting my breath mingle with the sparse hair on his chest.

This was even nicer than I had imagined, touching him as I pleased without feeling guilty or shameful over what I was allowing. Nothing about this felt wrong, and if this was sin, I would gladly take more.

I was lost in my exploration, bringing my hands gently over his torso, my fingers beginning to dig into his skin as I placed random kisses to follow the touch of my hands, enjoying the feeling of his hold tightening on my hips. His thumbs began to make slow circles on my stomach, encouraging the need that was building a few inches south of his fingers.

But with every touch, the fire was burning faster, coming to an impossible crescendo that made it impossible to resist his lips any longer. I let my kisses trail up, over his neck and across the sexy line of his jaw. I could feel him try to sit up as soon as my lips reached his, a growl ready in his throat as his hands moved under my shirt to the small of my back to pull me roughly against him. I raised my head and pushed his shoulders back to the ground, not yet ready to lose my newfound authority over him. He looked at me, predatory, and I quickly leaned forward for another kiss, moving forward so my mouth was by his ear.

"Still no moving," I whispered before nipping lightly at his earlobe, smiling as he groaned in frustration.

"You're gonna have to move faster, girl, if ya want me to follow your rules."

"You'll manage," I said, smiling wickedly at him, but what I felt of him between my legs said otherwise. I was fighting not to show just how precarious my handle of the situation was. I was slightly annoyed with how strongly he was always able to affect me, and I was determined to prove I could do the same to him. I thought hard for a second before removing his hand from my left hip and taking it into both of mine. He watched me intently as I brought his hand slowly to my mouth, separating his index finger from the rest, not breaking eye contact as I kissed the tip of his finger.

"Taylor," he said, his voice gruff but curt, a clear warning as I took his finger into my mouth, all the way, letting my teeth graze his knuckle as I moved it out and back in, never once looking away. I felt his hips thrust ever so slightly up against mine, and I stopped my sucking, instead biting his finger with some force.

I removed his hand so I could speak clearly. "I mean it, Dixon. Be still. Or else…" I trailed off, cocking my head, letting that threat hang in the air as I once again pressed my teeth into his finger.

I was very quickly becoming accustomed to this feeling of dominating him as I was. I liked this, and better, I could handle it. I loved having him underneath me, knowing his eyes were locked onto me as I took his finger back in my mouth, flicking at the tip with my tongue as he watched.

But my patience was quickly wearing thin, and listening to his throaty breaths had my body screaming for more. I released his hand so I could grasp the bottom of my fraying shirt. Maybe he had sensed my growing urgency, though, because his hands beat me there, his fingers dragging over my skin as he yanked the shirt up and over my raised arms.

He sat up suddenly, and I had to wrap my legs around him to keep balanced, my heels digging into his back as I grabbed his shoulders. Before I even had time to take a breath to chastise him, his lips were everywhere, my skin ablaze as he placed dozens of kisses and random, slow, burning licks over my neck, my collarbone, my shoulders. I let him, my head falling back as he pressed me to him with his palm on my shoulder blade. I felt his tongue at my breasts, could feel his heat even through my bra.

"You're breaking the rules," I barely managed to get out, my sentence ragged from my quick breathing, completely fucking up my weak attempt to regain control of the situation.

"Don't care," he grunted, his breath hitting the path his tongue had taken, making me shake.

His hands moved down my back, pulling me completely flush against him as he placed more heated kisses on my neck. I felt his fingers traveling up my spine, headed towards the clasp of my bra, and I pressed my head into the crook of his shoulder, slipping his sleeve down so could have access to the skin there. The moment he undid the clasp, I bit down hard on his shoulder, unforgiving, immediately tracing over the mark with my tongue.

I knew as soon as I had leaned back to look at his face that I had unleashed something more primitive, always going back to that same primal place wherever we were involved. His hands abandoned my undone bra to grab my ass and pull me hard against him. I smiled down at him, feeling how hard he was, satisfied with his temporary loss of control.

"I warned you I would bite," I whispered into his ear, breathless but victorious. I ground against him as I spoke, and he looked at me hungrily, moving his hands to cup my face and pull my lips to his. I shrugged off my bra as I opened my mouth to him, throwing it away haphazardly before wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my breasts against him. A whimper escaped me as my nipples rubbed against the rough fabric of his worn shirt, and I kissed him back hard, forgetting nearly all of my previous notions of having the upper hand on him.

But I still wasn't quite finished yet, wanted to take as much time as I could to revel in him openly wanting me and needing me like this. I thought back, trying to remember what he had asked of me just a few nights ago.

"Wait," I gasped, unable to string my thoughts together. I pulled him away from me by his hair, needing to breathe before I went on, mulling over my words. "I want to hear you."

He narrowed his eyes at me, his hands going back down to my ass, but I grabbed his arms to stop him. I wanted him to concentrate now. I put my hand on the side of his neck, my fingertips in the edge of his hair, bringing my face closer to his.

"Isn't that what you asked me? Remember?" His eyes flicked down to my lips, and I knew that he did. But having him like this was giving me brazen confidence, and I kissed the corner of his mouth, choosing to clarify the moment I was talking about anyways.

"We were right here in this garage," I began, keeping close to him, not caring if it was too much. I wanted to own this, own him, own as many of these moments between us as I could. His hands came back up my body as I spoke, coming to a stop under my arms, his hands large enough to curve slightly around to my back as his thumbs rubbed over the sides and undersides of my breasts, coming to rest in the slight crease created between them and my stomach. I pressed my forehead to his, fighting to ignore the sensation, wanting to overwhelm him before he could get to me. "And-"

But his hands, soft on my skin just a second ago, hardened their grip enough to cut me off. He held on tight to me, and before I was able to process what he was doing, he had flipped us over, my back pressing into the thin makeshift mattress, my legs and arms still wrapped around him, his body coming to a rest between my thighs.

"I fuckin' remember," he said, his voice guttural, and, in just a moment, I realized I had lost all of my power over him. He let his shirt fall from his arms, then put his hands at the bottom of my rib cage. He inched his hands up, letting the pads of his thumbs skim over my nipples, trailing his fingers up the undersides of my arms. He grabbed me at the elbows, my surprise preventing me from putting up any resistance as he jerked my arms from around his neck, pinning my wrists to the floor above my head.

He bent down, his body stretched over mine, and if I wasn't so enthralled with how good he looked and felt, I would have been annoyed with how easily he had been able to turn the tables on me, how easily he was always able to bring me to this point of desperation. I tried moving my hands, but he wasn't relenting this time, his strength too much for me to overcome.

"Nuh uh," he said when I tried instead to arch up into him. He looked up to where he was holding me down, then switched his gaze to my face, moving in even closer to me, his cheek rubbing against mine as he spoke into my ear. "Still wanna know what I'm thinkin'?"

I was nodding my head yes before the question was even out of his mouth, not caring about looking in charge anymore.

He squeezed my wrists. "I think you like this, sweetheart," he rasped, his voice nothing short of sinful. "I think you fuckin' love it, me touchin' you like this," he elaborated, his fingers digging almost painfully hard, but I only gasped, proving him right. He finally allowed his hips to lower to mine as he talked, and I shamelessly swiveled my hips up to meet him. I was practically panting as I looked down his arms flexed just over my head, the tattoo on his right bicep right next to my face.

But then be stopped the grinding of his hips, bringing in his arms even closer so that I was caged into him, nowhere to look but at him. I was about to ask if we could just give the games a break, beg him if need be. This anticipation and tension was too much, and I was aching for more, positively insatiable. I once again tried to weakly pull free, and was once again unsuccessful.

"Tell me I'm wrong and I'll stop this right now," he said, his eyes boring into mine, but then the side of his mouth crooked up in a smile that heated me through and through. "I'll let ya go, and ya can go on over there and do it yerself, and I'll just fuckin' sit back n' watch."

Why couldn't I ever just have one win on him? I closed my eyes, too many sensations hitting me: the warmth of his chest, the scratch of his cheek, the soothe of his lips on my neck. I couldn't tell him that he was wrong, couldn't tell him anything. The last thing that I wanted was for him to stop, but the only response I could clearly formulate in my mind was "more." I whispered that word out loud, my voice so weak that I was unsure if I had even really said it.

"What was that?" he demanded, and I felt him drop one of my hands, putting his palm on my cheek instead. I reopened my eyes to find him looking at me, completely attentive.

I swallowed, licking my lips. "I want more," I repeated, my voice almost embarrassingly husky with want.

He dropped his head down for just a second before suddenly sitting back onto his knees. My hands, now freed, went to the buckle of his pants, but his hands caught mine again. I groaned, tired of playing my own game, but he wasn't letting go.

"This isn't funny anymore, Daryl," I said, glaring at him.

But my frustration had the opposite effect than I had intended. He leaned down closer to me, our hands between us, the back of his fingers meeting my stomach. "No way, girl," he said, completely serious. "You're gonna manage."

I rolled my eyes, but I was becoming seriously concerned. I could feel my wetness becoming uncomfortable with my now damp panties, and if he didn't hurry the fuck up, my jeans would be next. I changed tactics, using my legs grasped around him to pull him closer, lifting my hips so that I could feel him against me. He let out a deep breath through his teeth, and his hands moved to his belt buckle. I smiled, thinking that I had won, but when the belt was gone he only placed his hands on top of my thighs.

He waited there for a second, looking down my legs. "Why the hell are you wearin' shorts?"

I huffed at the irrelevant question. "I was clean. The pants were not."

He gave me a low laugh, but it sounded vaguely ominous to me. "I dunno 'bout that. Seem kinda dirty to me," he corrected, his hands sliding forward underneath my shorts, under the waistband of my panties so his hands were snug between my shorts and my skin. He continued until his thumbs were against me outside of my shorts, pressing his thumbs in, sliding them up and down, and even that small pressure was enough to make my breaths hitch even more. My breathing halted entirely when he hooked his fingers around both my shorts and my panties, bringing them down my legs. I was looking at his hands, moving so slowly just because he knew it was torturing me. I was absolutely still, the want growing so thick in the air around is that it was difficult to breathe. He stopped when he had reached past my knees, shifting onto his side so that I could kick the garments off.

He settled back between my legs, but it wasn't lost on me that we were completely unbalanced. I raked down his chest, getting his attention, which had been focused at my open thighs, back to me. But he only looked at my face for a second before I lost his focus again. I stared at him as he looked at my body, traveling up my thighs, stopping briefly between them, continuing up to my chest, and then finally back to my eyes. I waited for him to make some kind of movement, speak to me again, but he seemed set on just fucking staring at me.

"I swear to God, Daryl, if you are not inside of me in the next minute-"

This spurred him to action. He moved further on top of me so that he was more over me, keeping his weight off of me with his forearms, his body still pressing into every inch of me. I only had a moment to enjoy the feel of so much of his skin against my own, his warm chest soothing against my hard nipples before his mouth attacked mine. He kissed me in earnest, his tongue demanding while his hips gyrated against me in a fast, steady motion. He hooked his hands under my knees and moved them harshly upward, forcing me more open for him, making his thrusts against me that much more sensitive. I broke the kiss with a gasp, feeling the rough fabric of his jeans against me, but it was quickly replaced by his fingers as he reached between us to cup my slit.

"I fuckin' thought so," he groaned against my lips as he slid a finger easily inside of me. My back arched as his thumb rubbed against my clit in time to his finger's movements. He curled his finger up, hitting a spot in my walls that made me squirm underneath him. He caught my reaction and repeated the movement, and I closed my eyes, unable to contain myself.

"Please, Daryl, I can't," I begged, the words coming out between breathy gasps as his fingers threatened to bring me to an impossible high. I grabbed his hair and firmly pulled it as he worked, trying to make him somehow understand how badly I needed to finish.

He ignored me, though, never ceasing the motions with his hand as he moved his kisses down my body to my breasts. He took a nipple roughly between his teeth, eliciting a near squeal.

"Can't what?" he asked from around my breast.

"I need…" But I couldn't even finish the sentence, so lost was I to his touches. "I need…"

I looked down and nearly came at the sight of shirtless Daryl with his mouth on me. His eyes flicked up, and when he saw that I was watching him, he moved to the side of my breast, the same place he had marked me our first time, and bit down. Hard.

That wonderful forbidden mixture of pain and pleasure had me crashing hard around his fingers. I held on tight to his biceps as my back arched once again in sweet agony, an orgasm ripping through me that felt so good it almost hurt. He never stopped rubbing my clit, prolonging the waves of pleasure I was riding. He let me settle, never stopping rubbing or soothing. While I was still in my state of ecstasy, he whispered in my ear, "Never said I wouldn't bite back." I smiled at the words, still lost in bliss.

But as soon as I came down from my high, I wanted more. Needed more. It was like applying a bucket of water to a raging inferno- not nearly enough.

I sat up as much as his proximity would allow, completely rushed, a sudden change from the peace I had felt just a minute ago. This time he didn't stop me as I reached for his buckle, helping me as I fumbled with it before quickly yanking his pants and boxers down, letting his cock spring free. I gave myself a moment to again appreciate his size before taking him eagerly into my hand, the need to have him inside me stronger than ever before.

He took my hand off of him and again moved my legs so that I was splayed open to him, but this time it was his cock rubbing against me, moving up and down my still sensitive clit.

I groaned, and he smiled for a second before furrowing his brow in sudden concentration. He reached over my head to his bag against the wall, rubbing against me once more, pulling out a condom from the box there. He made quick work of it, and before I could even brace myself, he had his hands on my thighs and he was sliding smoothly into me, not stopping until I had nothing left to take.

There was a moment of stillness, a moment of being completely and utterly filled and content, a moment of serenity, every puzzle piece falling into place, a perfect fit.

But it was only a moment.

Then there was just fire. Fire, burning, everywhere, as uncontrollable as ever as he pulled out and slammed into me hard, again and again. Already, I was so close, the desire in my body wracking ever higher. My hands were everywhere, desperate to relieve some of the unbearable pressure, digging into the mattress, pulling at his hair, leaving scratches down his arms. His body was slick against mine, the insane heat between us drawing up salty sweat that I could taste on my lips. I wasn't even intelligible anymore, every thrust bringing a new sound to my lips as he filled me over and over.

"Shit. I can't. You feel too. Damn. Good," he grunted, each word emphasized by another thrust.

"So close," I gasped, and I was. So close, so tantalizingly close to the edge, my body reacting in random clenches around him that would make him thrust even harder into me.

He leaned in closer to me, a dangerous look in his eye, his chest pressing against mine. He released one of my knees to bring his hand to my jaw, pulling my chin down so that he could look more easily into my eyes. The blue was all I could see, and I grappled with the urges that just his expression was giving me.

"You better cum for me again, sweetheart," he demanded, and I couldn't even think of even beginning to deny him. Our heavy gaze was broken for a second when he broke composure, his head bowing so that the top of his head met my chin, but then he looked back up. "Now, Taylor."

And that was it, the sound of my name in his gruff voice made rougher by desire for me, sounding so perfect and so right, was enough. I came harder than I ever had before. My eyes clenched tight as spasms wracked my body and I mouthed his name, clutching at his back, feeling him come to his own finish as he stilled inside me. I couldn't find my voice, couldn't remember how to speak, couldn't even discern our bodies from each other. Never ending waves of satisfaction emanated from between my legs, occasionally clenching in devastating aftershocks. He collapsed on top of me, still inside me, both of us nearly broken. Our chests heaved in deep breaths as one, coming against each other.

I combed through his hair with my fingers absentmindedly as I tried to remember basic breathing. In and out, in and out. Repeat.

It wasn't until my heart had stopped pounding and our breathing had returned to normal that he slid off me, discarding the condom before coming back next to me. He put his pants back on, and I did the same with my shirt and bra, bitter that in this world there were no options of falling asleep naked. I was pleased when he once again left his shirt off, allowing me to get greedy glimpses of his body as he got down next to me. He laid on his stomach with his head turned towards me, and I could see that he was completely exhausted. I turned to my side, tracing the scratch marks on his shoulders.

"Sorry," I smirked, liking to see the evidence.

"Ya don't sound sorry," he said, reaching over to rub his thumb once against the bite he had left on my breast.

"Yeah. Well. I'm not." I smiled at him unapologetically, but then looked over to where my bed was, frowning. We still had a couple hours of sleep open to us, but I didn't want to spend them over there.

"Goddamn, you're loud," he mumbled, and his eyes were already closing.

I turned my frown to him, though I wasn't even sure if he would see it. "I didn't say anything."

"Really think I can't hear you fuckin' thinkin' like that?"

My pleasure with the night prevented me from being too annoyed. "What are you talking about?"

He sighed, opening his eyes. "Bitin' your lip, fidgeting your fingers again, and you're bein' quiet."

"I thought you just said I was being loud."

"With you the shit starts when you're quiet. So stop thinkin' and just go the fuck to sleep," he ordered, and his eyes came closed once again.

I hesitated. I didn't want to ask this of him, but if I was still being completely honest, I needed to hear that he wanted me to stay. Too many rejections from him had brought me to a needy place that I wasn't happy with. A few days of success with him hadn't pulled me out completely from that concern. "I don't want to sleep over there."

His eyes flashed open again, though he didn't look at me. "Bring it here, then."

I didn't question him, but followed his request silently, pulling my blankets that had become my bed over so that I was next to him. I laid down on my side so that I was facing him again, pulling the quilt up to my shoulders.

He watched me while I arranged myself, not speaking until I was set. "Better?"

I nodded, pulling the quilt up higher to hide my smile. "Better."

He closed his eyes, and this time I didn't say anything to draw him back. "Alright, then," he said, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth I could see that he had gone, the exhaustion from his exertion catching up with him. I let my own lids drift close, ready for what I was sure would finally be a content sleep.

**Sigh, I don't know if I'll ever be able to keep these two completely clothed for long. But, okay. Take a breather and whatever cold showers you need...this was a break, but get ready for the next chapter where I might not be so kind. **


	16. Chapter 16

**Glad to hear I'm not the only Caryl hater out there! And that y'all approve of my coping mechanism...**

**Shera1313- That chapter was a good deal easier to write...nekkid Daryl is not something I have a hard time imagining, ehem...but I digress. Yes, Taylor/Daryl style. They're taking some pretty good baby steps! **

**drivenunder- A century. Or ten. Or just, you know, forever. That would work too. And, naked Daryl is my favorite, too. I miss it when I have to write him with his pants on. **

**nomnomnorman- longer than 6000 words? Ah, well ;) Sorry for raising the frustration levels. I hope the rest of your night wasn't too difficult... and hey, you should probably stick around with reviews. Just throwing that out there. **

**Fany1- Hey, look! You're back! I missed you! Considering you're one of the people that got me to actually make this one shot into a thing, I was sad when I didn't hear from you. Don't be a lazy sloth! :) I'm glad you managed to read this in public without combusting. And an in character mushy Daryl? Hmmm. Don't get your hopes up just yet...**

**ObjectiveObserverFromAfar- cutting it close there! I hope your significant other made it home in time ;)**

**Thanks also to Rea Josette, OnTheWildSide (I'd like to think it can be!), NanamiYatsumaki, and Emzy2k11 for reviewing, and, as always, to those favoriting/following, or just reading. That's why these chapters even exist. Also, stick around for an important AN at the end, if you don't normally.**

I had officially taken back my childhood wish for snow. The rain would definitely be enough for me.

Daryl and I had been on a last evening run for some water. What should have been a half hour trip had turned more complicated when we had run into a few walkers on our return. But, with just us, now that we were finally back in sync to what we had been before, taking care of them was easy. It was more than that; because we trusted each other, knew our styles so well, it could once again be a bit of a sport, a game that we excelled at to let off steam. I had been worried that this newly established facet of our relationship had ruined the friendship and teamwork dynamic, and proving that it hadn't had me in a good mood.

Even the sudden rain that had hit on our way back couldn't dampen my spirits. By the time we made it back to the garage, we were both drenched. I set the now full canteens of water at the corner of our building as Daryl opened our door, laughing as I barely ducking inside before a clap of thunder rocked the building.

I shivered, just catching a glimpse of Glenn waving from his garage with Maggie across the way and waving quickly back before my vision was obscured by Daryl closing the door behind me. He shoved it, trying to get it down those last unyielding inches to stop the splattering of rain bouncing onto our floor.

"The hell are you laughin' 'bout?" he grunted as he kneeled.

"Just in a good mood. Plus watching you lose a fight with a door is kind of funny." My teeth were chattering, and I felt chilled to the bone. "I'm fucking soaking wet," I complained, shrugging off my now heavy jacket and rubbing my arms. I had meant to immediately find a new dry shirt from my bag, but then the the door finally crashed completely to the floor, and he turned around.

I was suddenly stuck as he looked me up and down, his wet hair plastered to his face, stubborn drops of rain clinging to his stubble, his arms glistening, his shirt glued to his torso, and I swallowed down the open admiration I was now feeling.

And then he smirked, pushing all the right buttons on me, and I shivered again, though this time it had less to do with the cold. "Yeah, and what else is new?" he asked, stepping closer, his eyes once again traveling my body, pausing at my breasts where my nipples were pressing obviously against my shirt.

I opened my mouth in a falsely offended face, rearing back to use my jacket to smack him, but he caught the fabric easily in his hands. Before I could adjust, he was using the jacket to pull me to him. I followed easily, completely fine with when this dominant side of him came out to play.

He was looking down at me, both our hands still on the jacket, a droplet of water dripping from his nose to my cheek. We weren't even touching and already I felt a warmth flowing through me, expelling the cold.

I looked down at his hands and up his arms, following the clean tracks the rain had made, cutting through the dirt and grit already on his skin.

"We were clean three days ago. How the hell are you this dirty already?" I asked, smiling up at him.

He shrugged, not breaking the stare. "Don't give a shit."

I stepped closer, rolling up on the balls of my feet. "It's alright. Dirty kinda suits you," I lilted, hoping he would take the bait.

But he merely pushed me firmly down so I was back on solid feet. "Go put somethin' dry on 'fore ya freeze to death," he directed quietly, and I felt another little chill at the tone of his voice as I remembered exactly what it was able to do to me when he spoke to me that way in a more intimate setting. He released the jacket, giving me permission to go before he stepped away himself.

He was talking now as I went to my bag, something about collecting rainwater, but I didn't give a shit anymore about the rain, completely distracted as I kneeled in front of my bag. I was more concentrated now on all the possibilities open to us to help pass the time. I tried again to focus as I shuffled through my bag, looking for a new shirt, pushing aside an unopened box of tampons. Where the hell was-

I froze.

Tampons.

Which I hadn't used in-

I tried to mentally do the math, forgetting everything else as I frantically attempted to count the days, even though I instinctually knew I was late. How many weeks had it been? Five? Six? I put my hands low on my stomach, trying to trigger the cramps that I knew I should have felt by now.

I felt a numbness start to tingle through my fingers, warring with an overbearing panic beating through my system. Daryl was still talking, but I couldn't hear the words, couldn't hear anything but my own drowning adrenaline laced with denial thrumming in my ears.

I was not… I could not be…

I grabbed onto those feelings of immediate rejection, shoving the box back to the bottom of my bag. So what if I was late? It was the apocalypse, right? And stress could throw off a cycle. It had happened to me a few times before, and most definitely had to be what was happening now.

I felt an instantaneous relief as I came to this conclusion, nodding to myself as I peeled off my shirt and replaced it with another. Yes. Stress. That was the logical explanation, much more plausible than anything else.

"'Ey," I heard Daryl's voice, still faintly distant to my ringing ears. I felt his hand at the top of my head, nudging me back so he could look down at my face. "Ya listenin'?"

I smiled tightly, feeling my chapped lips cracking. I ran my tongue over them, hoping to relieve the stinging dryness before I spoke. "Yeah, sorry."

He was still looking at me, his eyes reading steadily over my face, but for once, I was sure that he wouldn't be able to see any trace of my anxiety, not when I had already buried it so deep. He had gotten dressed without me noticing, and so he had no reason to back away, simply watching me.

I bowed my head away from his hand, not willing to match his stare. I went back to my bag, carefully avoiding what I knew lay in wait at the bottom, pulling out one of the cleaner pairs of sweats I had left. I stood up, still not looking at him as I shimmied out of the jeans, the damp fabric gripping my frozen skin.

I saw from his feet that he was still standing uncomfortably close to me, not touching me as I put the pants on, the wool fabric feeling like an almost caress on my legs. The rain was still falling hard, the sound of it pattering against the tin roof and door soothing my still racing thoughts. I had successfully forced away the frenzy of alarm, but in doing so had also made it impossible for me to feel anything else. Any desire I had felt for him moments ago had disappeared, and when he touched my elbow, it took concentrated strength not to pull away.

Instead, I plastered on another vague, faint smile, making sure the expression was set on my face before allowing him to turn me back around to face him.

He furrowed his brow at my bland look, releasing my arm. "Sumtin' happen?" he asked, his eyes assessing my body, clinical now instead of hungry.

I shook my head, a little too vigorously, forcing myself to step closer to him. But then his hands went to the hem of my shirt, and I nearly smacked him away, terrified that he would be able to look at that part of me and somehow know.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, coming out more mournfully than I meant. "Rain makes me tired. Can we just… go to bed?"

It was a weak excuse, and I knew that my complete turnaround in demeanor would tip him off that something was wrong. I was relying on his ability to know when not to ask questions, and I was filled with gratitude when, after a few more seconds of questioning staring, he simply nodded. He turned away from me, scratching the back of his head and popping the vertebrae at his neck before kicking his bag out of the way of his bed. I followed suit, and a couple of minutes later we were both lying down, the gaslamp lowered to a dim flicker.

I was on my side facing him, as I had already become accustomed to doing. Falling asleep was easier now when I knew I could open my eyes and see him there, the sense of security that I felt with him normally enough to lull me to sleep.

But tonight, he turned his head so that he was looking back at me, the same look of confusion on his face. I wanted to look away, turn my back to him, but his eyes were pinning me in place. If this had been any other night, I could have made a move, but now, the secret discovery that I was trying so hard to forget was preventing me from getting close.

So, instead, I turned onto my back, closing my eyes, hoping he wouldn't read too much into it. I focused on my breathing, making it more steady, determined to trick my body into relaxing enough to sleep.

It was rare for Daryl to give into his exhaustion before I did, always the last one awake, and so it seemed like forever before I was sure his breaths had evened out enough for it to be safe to open my eyes.

I was still wide awake. I turned my head to see Daryl facing me, his perfect lips slightly parted in the sleep that was eluding me, his hand outstretched towards me. I put my eyes back to the ceiling, wishing there was something more interesting there to distract me.

But there were no more distractions, and the more I tried to find something else to focus on, the more obvious it became that there was nothing else, and slowly, I was forced to let my own barricades fall. My breathing became much more uneven as I felt a fear, so real and so sudden, twisting in the pit of my stomach, tendrils of it clinging to my nerve endings. It was an almost tangible thing, and I found myself turning away from Daryl and curling inward, bringing my knees to my chest as if I could get rid of the sensation if only I could make myself small enough. My whole body was shaking with the uneasy terror I had been repressing, and I bit down on my knuckle, trying to release some of the apprehension in my gut. I stopped when I tasted that metallic tinge of blood, knowing I had broken skin without accomplishing anything else.

A certain despair was crawling over me, painting an ugly layer of dread and panic that was seeping into everything I had, everything I was. How had I let this happen? This, above every other nightmare I had gone through, meant death, and, even worse, it was a death sentence I had bestowed willingly upon myself. A new self loathing began to creep over me, edged with a guilt so strong that it took my breath away. Irresponsible, reckless stupidity had gotten me here. My breaths were coming too fast, chopped, unable to get even a second of oxygen in my lungs. Everything was hitching, the air supply, my body, my own silent sobs wrestling in my throat.

I raked my still damp hair back from my face, trying to clear my vision, pathetically hoping there was some obvious path that I was missing.

I would not have a baby.

I lifted my shirt to look down at my still flat stomach as if there should be a roundness there, and took little relief in the lack of immediate evidence. But, the longer I looked at my stomach, the more disgusted with myself I became. I could feel it, I was sure, this damning thing inside of me that would be the death of us all. Just as I had been positive only an hour ago that I was clear, I was now completely doubtless that the opposite was true. Without thinking, without understanding, driven only by the insane need to once again be empty, I dug my nails into my stomach, clawing across from one side of my waist to the other. I watched the white scratches appear on my tanned skin, fading to an ugly red that was proof of my lingering desperation.

Rational thought was gone, and I couldn't stop the imagined images forming behind my closed eyelids: me, months from now, hideously and unnaturally swollen at my stomach but grossly thin everywhere else, unable to feed even myself, let alone two; stretch marks, straining to hold new life; fucking up supply runs with constant pee breaks, if I would even be allowed to go anymore; incapable of running, incapable of fighting, just fucking incapable, rendered an invalid with a terminal illness. And this, this didn't even begin to approach the horrors that surely awaited when it came to actually getting this thing out of me.

I would not have a baby.

I heard Daryl shift with a small grunted sigh next to me, and a whole new wave of foreboding insecurities washed over me. What was I supposed to say to him? Should I say anything at all? This was too soon for this to be happening, to expect him to be able to handle it, to expect anything. It had taken weeks for us to even get to this point of comfort between us, and even now we were anything but solid. Rick and Lori were fucking married and I saw how this had ripped them apart through and through. What did I have with Daryl? A not-quite boyfriend? Someone to fuck? Labels had never been important, but now, I couldn't possibly imagine adding "parent" to the list. Or, even worse, mother.

A fucking mother. A fucking baby.

I felt a new fit of sobs wracking through me at the thought of being forced to accept this role, the dread making me almost convulse. I felt uncomfortably hot, the sweat gathering on my upper lip, and I got out from underneath the covers as gently as my unsteady limbs would allow. I started crawling back over to where my side had been, needing space, needing air, needing calm.

But I miscalculated my steps, the tears in my eyes making everything blurry, and I accidentally knocked over the gaslamp that had been next to my bed. The clang as it fell and the grate as it rolled shattered the quiet. I swore, standing, intending to pick it up, but the flickering light disappeared as the flame extinguished. I heard rather than saw Daryl sitting up, could hear the smack of his palms on the concrete and then the rustle of what must have been my bed as he felt for me.

"Taylor?" he asked, his voice permeating through the darkness, not sounding the least bit groggy.

I couldn't respond, my fragmented breaths loud enough to be my answer. I heard him stand, could see in my mind's eye how cautious he would be as he made his way over.

"Why ain't you answerin'?" he asked, somewhat closer.

I backed against the wall, feeling cornered. "I'm here," I whispered, knowing he'd be able to hear it.

Sure enough, he found me, his hands on my arms just above my wrists. But, for once, I was finding his touch anything but welcome. His hands now felt unpleasantly sobering on my skin, making my stomach churn instead of giving me the normal paralyzing draw, and I winced at how conflicted I felt.

"You fine?" he asked, but I could only shake my head. I was thankful that it was dark, hiding my reaction as his hands moved up my arms. There was something different in the way he was touching me, and I realized with a jolt that he was checking to see if he could find a wound, misreading my broken breathing for physical pain. I let him examine me, finding it impossible to correct his train of thought.

I closed my eyes when he reached my stomach, his fingers grazing on bare skin under my still ruffled shirt. I felt him find the imprints of my scratches, the raised skin, the little pinpoint prickles of blood flaking away as he traveled the expanse of my self inflicted marks.

"What's this?" he asked, his hand still on my stomach, so low and so quiet that I almost couldn't hear him over my own heart pounding.

"I-" But I couldn't explain, couldn't find the words, my voice cracking.

"You get scratched out there?" he asked, his voice completely void of any emotion. He kept one hand at my stomach while with his other hand he grabbed my wrist, pulling out my arm so that it was straight, turning my palm up. He wrapped two fingers around me, and I understood now that he was feeling for a steady pulse.

"I wasn't scratched," I whispered, debating which fate he would take worse.

"What the hell is it, then?" he demanded, more angry now as he dropped my wrist.

"I'm late," I said, the words sounding so horribly fucking cliche that they felt more akin to a teen drama than my life. Saying it out loud was even worse than having it repeat endlessly in my head, and it took a real effort not to double over from the extra weight of the admission.

The burden was made worse when he yanked his hand from my stomach as if I had burned him. It wasn't fair for me to blame him, not when my own reaction was still so severe, but his rejection seemed to amplify my own. I felt my stomach turning again, threatening to make me sick.

There was too much silence between us as I tried to push back what I was feeling, every overwhelming emotion pushing me to a tipping point, closer to spilling over with every given moment. I wanted him to leave and let me deal with this on my own, let me pretend I could just disappear the problem if I concentrated hard enough.

"So yer sayin'-"

I pushed past him before he could finish, not wanting to hear him say the words that I had yet to fully grasp. "I don't know yet, okay?"

"What you mean, you don't know? Either you are or you ain't," he said, and I could hear him following behind me.

"I said I don't know!" I snapped, turning on him, still too fragile to take on his concerns along with my own. I looked outside, terrified that this news would somehow make it outside these walls. I wrapped my arms around myself, keeping away from the stinging on my stomach, speaking more quietly. "I don't know."

It was silent as he tried to put together what little pieces of information I was capable of giving him. "Ain't there a pill or sumtin? Glenn got Lori shit, I could-"

But I stopped him before he could begin, waving off the useless plan even as I wished it was a viable option. "There's no such thing as an abortion pill," I explained, choking around the suddenly forbidden word. "Plan B is for right after. It stops this shit from happening. I could pop some right now and it wouldn't do anything." I swallowed, wringing my hands as I sniffed back more tears.

It was too late. What options did I have? I would not become Lori, or, even worse, Carol, and I repeated the words again to myself: I would not have a baby.

I turned back around to look for him, and it took me a second before I realized he was now sitting on the ground, holding up his head with one hand. I didn't even know whether or not I wanted to see his expression as I lowered myself to the floor across from him, thankful to have an excuse to sit back down before I collapsed. I put my face in my hands, not wanting to cry in front of him. But he had to know, had to understand.

"Daryl, I-" I began, but faltered, my throat constricting. "I can't have a baby. I won't." I forced the words out, barely intelligible through the sobs that I was no longer able to restrain.

The silence felt a million times thicker than it had before that statement, and I could feel him looking at me even though I hadn't seen him move. I could practically hear the sound of my tears splashing to my thighs, and I breathed, trying to calm myself as I apprehensively waited for a response.

I heard him standing up, a breeze hitting me as he walked past. I looked around, trying to tell what he was doing, but I couldn't see a damn thing, could only hear the rustle of fabric. But then I heard the familiar sounds of him putting his crossbow on, and a new fear hit me.

"Where are you going?" I asked, and I cringed at the neediness in my voice, but it still didn't stop him from ignoring me, and I jumped as he rattled the garage door back open. The sound of the rain immediately filled the room, and I stood up, scraping my hands on a rough portion of the concrete.

"Out," he answered before I could take any steps toward him, and he stepped over the threshold. I just barely got a glimpse of his poncho in another flash of lightning, his face still in shadows as he pulled the door closed with a final thud behind him.

**Very important for me to say: I am absolutely not trying to offend anyone with anything I wrote here. Remember that I warned you all that it might get dark, and this is a topic I've been wanting to approach, simply because I thought the show's portrayal of it was so unrealistic. Equally important: What Taylor said about Plan B is true. PLAN B IS NOT AN ABORTION PILL. I was pissed as hell that TWD chose to perpetuate this completely false myth. Alright. Be safe, ladies, and drop a review before you go so I know I didn't scare anyone away. **


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